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<viM  #iiiM  ^  ^'^mf%^'K 


UP    THE    RIVER. 


f!  w.  shelton, 

AUTHOR  OF  HECTOR  OF  ST.  BARDOLPH's,  AND  SALANDKR  THE  DRAGON. 


Mitl]  lUustotions  fraiu  (Driginivl  icsigns. 


■Neto*¥ocfe: 
CHARLES  SCRIBNER,    NASSAU- STREET, 

1853. 


?PR 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress  in  the  year  1853,  by 

CHARLES  SCRIBNEK, 

in  the  Clerk's  OflSce  of  llie  Distrirt  Court  of  me  United  States  for  the 
Soutiiern  District  of  New  York. 


TOBITT  S    COMBINATION-TYPE, 
181  "William-st. 


PREFATORY     LETTER 


ro 


LOUIS    GAYLORD   CLARK. 


Bourne. 


IXTEEN    years    ago, 
while   living   near    the 
;v     C     sea-coast,  I  was  sitting 
-^4^    in  a  parlour  on  a  plea- 
sant  summer  morning, 
sauntering  with  a  lazy- 
eye  over  a  volume  of 
Latin  poems,  a  portion 
of  the  delicate  opuscula, 
the    dexterous    handi- 
work     of     V  I  N  N  I  u  8 
I  remember  turning  over  the  snowy  pages  of 


that  book  only  because  the  fact  is  connected  with  one  of 


ii,  PREFATORY    LETTER. 

more  importance, — such  is  the  mysterious  principle  of 
association  which  makes  each  petty  memory  the  co-link  in 
a  lengthened  chain.  AVhile  engaged  in  the  scansion  and 
interpretation  of  a  Sapphic  Ode,  compacted  by  Vinnius 
with  an  unimpeachable  accuracy  and  adjustment  of  its 
several  parts,  a  person  bearing  precisely  the  same  name 
as  yours,  was  announced — when  without  formality,  and 
with  a  vigorous  start,  a  friendship  commenced,  which  up 
to  this  day,  has  been  frank,  open,  genial,  and  above  dis- 
guise— interrupted,  it  is  hoped,  by  no  unpardonable  faults, 
and  embittered  never  by  any  unkindly  suspicions. 

According  to  the  melancholy  records  of  social  inter- 
course, it  is  a  cause  of  gratulation,  as  well  as  a  mutual 
compliment  to  both,  that  this  fearful  lapse  of  time  has 
not  become  an  impassable  chasm,  and  that  we  hold  the 
same  friendship  in  good  preservation  still.  Such  it  may  be 
predicted  will  be  the  amiable  fact,  until  if  life  remains,  the 
dark  liair  on  these  worthy  crowns  shall  have  become  as 
white  as  the  driven  snow,  and  the  almond  tree  shall 
flourish. 

It  is  not  often  that  a  tolerable  contact  or  juxta-posi- 
tion  can  couLiuue  even  fur  a  decade  of  years.     Business 


PREFATORY    LETTER.  111. 

and  the  stern  perplexities  of  life  interpose  their  obstacles 
to  a  close  affinity,  and  cause  the  elements  which  were  dis- 
posed to  coalesce,  to  fly  apart  with  a  centrifugal  motion. 
Thus  you  may  sit  at  the  festive  board  with  a  friend, 
enjoy  with  him  at  intervals  a  day's  ramble,  or  walk  with 
him  in  a  pleasant  garden ;  but  in  a  little  time  he  is  at  the 
ends  of  the  earth,  the  ocean  rolls  between  you,  or  he  has 
gone  to  "  that  bourne  whence  no  traveller  returns."  The 
mountains  rise  above  the  vales  to  divide  friendships  as 
well  as  countries,  and  lift  their  hoary  peaks  to  cut  human 
hearts  in  twain.  In  a  few  years  you  strain  your  eyes  over 
a  dreary  distance,  where  all  which  is  between  you  and  the 
horizon  appears  vacant  air. 

As  we  sometimes  turn  back  after  journeying  a  long 
distance  to  find  again  some  Bantine  thicket  full  of  birds, 
some  flowering  dell  in  the  mid-wilderness  where  there  was 
a  fountain  of  sweet  waters,  so  we  can  but  recur  to  these 
green  spots  of  the  Past,  and  pluck  a  faded  leaf  from 
memory.  The  arrowy  course  of  these  past  years  has  its 
mile-stones  composed  of  monuments  wreathed  about,  as 
the  case  may  be,  with  the  green  vines  of  spring,  or  with 
the  purple  foliage  of  autumn,  or  with   their  white  shafts 


iv,  rriEFATORY    LETTER. 

sunken  in  still  whiter  snows.  The  twin-spirits  have  been 
torn  asunder,  the  poet  has  ceased  his  numbers,  and  the 
minstrel  his  song,  and  Beauty  has  perished  in  its  prime, 
and  the  noble  heart  has  become  cold  for  ever.  In  the 
repose  of  Greenwood,  (the  suburbs  of  a  living  city) 
marked  by  many  a  silver  lake,  and  wood-crowned  hill,  and 
cultivated  garden,  we  have  sometimes  stood  while  the 
earth  opened  to  swallow  up  those  who  were  dearest — or 
pausing  at  the  tomb  of  one  too  early  lost,  have  exclaimed 
almost  in  the  plaintive  words  of  the  classic  poet\ — 

lieu !  quanto  minus  est  cum  reliquis  versari 
Quam  tui  memmisse. 

But  a  tide  less  deep  and  dark  than  that  of  Styx  too  often 
separates  the  friends  who  seemed  like  brothers — the  wrig- 
gling, shallow  stream  of  selfish  policy.  Most  acquaintan- 
ces proceed  less  from  knowledge  than  from  the  want  of 
it,  and  with  those  of  deep  feeling  an  admiration  for  many, 
which  has  been  quickly  fanned  into  a  flame,  becomes 
changed  into  a  cynical  mistrust  for  all,  which  poisons  the 
heart  at  its  warm  fountain.  To  advance  in  all  knowledge 
makes  you  in  love  with  the  pursuit,  and  instigates  you  to 
go  farther,  except  the  knowledge  of  men. 


PREFATORY    LETTER.  V. 

I  recollect  upon  that  pleasant  morning  when  first  we 
met,  that  we  went  to  walk  in  the  woods,  ascending  first 
a  hill-top  from  which  a  good  view  could  be  obtained, 
and  I  said  to  you  in  the  musical  words  of  Sir  William 
Temple,  "  I  will  conduct  you  to  a  hill-side,  painful  indeed 
at  the  first  ascent,  and  steep,  but  else  so  smooth,  so  clear, 
so  full  of  goodly  prospects  and  of  harmonious  sounds, 
that  the  harp  of  Orijheus  is  not  more  charming."  It  was 
the  month  of  June,  and  the  dog-wood  was  in  blossom,  and 
the  young  bark  of  the  birch  and  sassafras  smelled  sweet, 
and  the  leaves  just  burst  from  their  waxen  buds  had  a 
glossy  and  a  tender  freshness,  and  the  dells  were  full  of 
singing  birds,  and  the  year  was  at  its  prime.  For  at  the 
latter  end  of  May,  and  in  early  June,  when  the  lingering 
chills  which  come  from  ice-fields  have  given  place  to  the 
sweet,  warm  breath  of  summer,  and  the  sun  cheers  and 
gilds,  without  yet  scorching  with  his  rays,  and  the  rose 
blushes  at  that  identical  stage  of  its  existence  which  is  be- 
twixt its  early  budding  and  its  prime,  there  is  a  sense  of 
life  and  freshness  which  we  annually  enjoy  for  a  little,  and 
then  bid  farewell  to  it,  perhaps  for  ever. 

It  was  at  this  season,  so  propitious,  that  we  walked 


Vi.  PREFATORY    LETTER. 

together  for  the  first  time,  0  my  friend,  talking  of  those 
hopes  which  have  scarce  yet  budded,  and  of  those  expect- 
ations which  have  not  yet  bloomed.  Then  all  seemed  fair 
and  promising,  and  the  thoughts  of  our  heart  borrowed 
their  liue  from  the  landscape,  for  we  were  in  the  very 
springtime  of  life. 

A  year  later,  I  stood  at  this  same  spot  alone,  and 
thinking  of  3'ou,  broke  open  the  seal  of  that  letter  which  I 
held  in  my  hand,  for  I  never  glance  over  an  expected  let- 
ter on  the  sidewalk,  hastily  gobbling  its  contents,  but 
hold  it  in  reserve  for  some  moment  of  leisure  or  fitting 
place.  It  was  then  that  I  first  knew^  of  the  death  of  your 
twin-brother  Willis,  who  has  written  some  of  the  most 
heartfelt  poetry  which  was  ever  penned.  You  spoke  of 
having  started,  but  of  arriving  too  late  to  be  present  at  his 
departure,  for  when  you  entered  his  house  that  night  in 
Philadelphia  he  was  dead.  I  have  lost  the  letter,  which 
was  in  few  words,  but  remeniber  well  the  impression 
which  it  made  upon  me ;  nor  do  I  esteem  you  less  be- 
cause it  may  be  said  of  you,  oiotus  in  fratrem  anwii  pa- 
teriii,  and  because  you  are  ever  casting  flowers  upon  his 
grave. 


PREFATORY    LETTER.  Vll. 

Since  that  first  meeting,  I  have  spent  many  pleasant 
hours  in  your  company,  often  sitting  at  evening  and  at 
mid-winter  in  j'our  cheerful  study,  where  the  lights  still 
blazed,  while  the  storm  howled  without,  and  the  snows 
fell  on  the  Icnobbed  and  bony  fingers  of  the  dry  Alanthus, 
whose  knuckles  were  held  up  before  j^our  door — looking 
upon  the  fire  in  the  grate,  turning  over  the  leaves  of  costly 
and  freshly-printed  books  upon  your  table — examining 
pictures,  reading  passages  in  prose  and  poetry  from  classic 
authors — beguiling  th«  time  with  anecdote  and  talk. 

And  I  have  often  floated  with  you  on  summer  days 
around  the  expansive  btTy  which  pours  its  wealth  of  wa- 
ters and  treasures  from  every  clime  into  the  bosom  of  our 
native  city.  I  say  native,  although  neither  of  us  first  drew 
the  breath  of  life  within  it.  But  we  have  been  nestled 
closely  upon  its  great  heart,  and  been  nurtured  almost 
within  its  limits,  and  our  hopes  and  affections  are  identified 
with  it,  and  it  is  like  some  beloved  Argos  to  which  the 
eye  constantly  reverts.  "Within  our  owm  time,  from  being 
comparatively  small  and  without  architectural  adornment, 
and  ranked  in  an  inferior  class,  it  has  risen  into  a  magnifi- 
cent and  glorious  city,  enlarging  its   borders  on  every 


Viii.  PREFATORY    LETTER. 

hand,  boasting  its  "  streets  of  palaces  and  walks  of  state," 
bearing  still  it  is  true  its  provincial  name — and  although 
surmounted  neither  by  the  dome  of  the  Capitol,  nor  the 
Monument  of  Washington,  nor  the  halls  of  legislation,  in 
all  respects  the  Metropolis  of  the  Western  Continent ; — 
and  much  as  I  love  the  country  and  the  smell  of  the  new- 
mown  hay,  my  heart  still  throbs  with  exultation  when  I 
come  near  enough  to  hearken  to  the  hum  of  Manahatta,  the 
clashing  of  its  ship-yards,  the  breathing  of  its  Vulcanic 
forges,  the  clangour  of  the  foundries,  the  note  of  prepara- 
tion, and  the  sound  of"  armourers  closing  rivets  up" — not 
for  the  big  barbaric  men  who  hold  a  spear,  and  whose 
breasts  are  coated  with  overlapping  plates,  but  mas- 
sive coatings  for  the  hot  and  steaming  lungs  of  iron  horses 
and  for  the  sheathing  of  the  ships ; — for  bolts  and  bands 
and  bars  to  envelope  the  very  sinews  of  the  arm  of  Peace. 
Oh,  how  much  superior  to  man  are  the  physic  powers 
which  he  controls  as  with  a  tyrant's  sway.  Yes,  I  am 
proud  of  that  city  which  rises  up  superbly  out  of  the  deep, 
and  in  which  Commerce  glories  as  her  own.  Hie  arma 
hie  eurius.  When  I  see  the  pictured  and  beaded  Indians 
listlessly  and  moodily  still  wending  their  way  through  its 


PREFATORY    LETTER.  IX 

streets,  the  same  children  of  Nature  which  they  were  when 
the  keel  of  Hendrik  Hudson  first  clove  these  weaves,  ad- 
vanced not  one  jot  farther  in  civilization,  except  that  the 
scalping-knife  is  of  necessity  sheathed,  and  the  tomahawk 
is  buried — bearing  their  fictile  wares  and  barken  manufac- 
tures, and  needle-work,  and  rattling  baubles  about  their 
necks,  and  bringing  back  at  a  single  glance  the  memory 
of  the  bai'baric  Past,  and  then  turn  to  the  spectacle  around 
me,  I  ask  myself  is  all  this  the  illusion  of  the  fancy  ?  Is 
what  I  see  the  effect  of  magic  and  the  doings  of  Genii,  or 
is  it  rather  that  I  am  standing  upon  the  last  vantage 
ground  of  the  human  race,  where  the  dead  are  quickened, 
and  a  resurrection  is  taking  place,  and  society  sloughing  off" 
its  old  prejudices,  is  at  last  bursting  its  shackles  and  swa- 
thing bands,  and  with  gigantic  strength  is  coming  forth  to 
a  better  life,  to  a  more  exalted  freedom,  and  to  a  higher 
civilization. 

And  I  have  often  floated  with  you  on  a  summer  even- 
ing up  the  Eiver,  \valking  the  decks  of  a  gorgeous  palace, 
or  perched  high  up  at  the  extreme  bow  in  a  privileged 
position  near  the  good  man  at  the  wheel-house,  and  while 
the  sun  sank  low,  and  gilt  the  Western  skies  with  an  Ita- 


X.  PREFATORY    LETTER. 

lian  splendour,  and  with  a  warm  and  lingering  glow,  we 
shot  by  the  lovely  coasts,  and  enjoyed  in  all  its  variegated 
lio-hts  and  shades  the  changes  of  that  unfolding  panorama. 
What  though  the  day  were  sultry,  and  no  breath  of  air 
was  stirring  on  the  shores,  yet  here  the  prow  dashed 
through  the  strong  exhilarating  breeze,  while  on  the  green 
and  sloping  banks  we  saw  the  lambs  strolling,  their  backs 
clothed  with  Spanish  fleeces,  and  the  kine  reclining  in  easy 
attitudes  on  those  rounded  knolls  and  hill  tops  which  re- 
semble the  tomb  of  the  Old  Bianor.  And  presently  we 
glided  past  the  base  of  that  most  massive,  solid  wall  of 
perpendicular  rocks,  extending  on  the  left  for  miles  and 
miles,  more  marvellous  than  the  Giant's  Causeway,  yet 
seemingly  the  work  of  men,  built  up  as  if  by  line  and 
plummet  for  the  circumvallation  of  some  immense  cit}', 
with  the  summit  of  the  wall  all  evenly  cut  in  a  direct  and 
horizontal  line,  as  if  done  by  a  chisel.  Still  as  we  pass  by, 
the  work  appears  too  great  for  men,  or  even  giants.  Some 
convulsion  of  Nature  must  have  wrenched  open  the  lion- 
like jaws,  and  while  on  the  one  side  they  remain  solid  and 
petrified,  on  the  other  they  are  crumbled  away  and  gone. 
In  their  height  and  length,  these  walls  make  a  mere  mock 


PREFATORY    LETTER.  xi, 

at  the  mud-work  and  masonry  of  man.  The  forests  at 
their  base,  as  you  sail  onward  in  the  middle  of  the  stream, 
look  like  an  irregular  green  stripe  on  a  basement  of  per- 
pendicular cliffs,  and  the  great  parallel  splits  or  projec- 
tions on  their  sides  have  the  appearance  of  pilasters,  and 
the  vines  and  foliage  on  the  top  hang  over  like  light  leaves 
of  ornamental  acanthus.  I  for  one  have  never  seen  the 
walls  which  upheave  majestic  domes,  which  have  been 
built  by  Angelo  and  others,  but  I  know  that  they  cannot 
equal  the  Palisadoes. 

What  an  infinite  variety  of  landscape  is  presented  to 
the  eye  as  you  pass  up  the  River.  Although  you  see  no 
castles,  like  those  which  are  on  the  brink  of  the  Rhine,  yet 
in  all  their  towering  and  natural  grandeur  the  cliffs  shoot 
up  on  which  the  castles  ought  to  be ; — and  whether  the 
fogs  wreathe  their  summits,  or  they  stand  clear  and  well- 
defined  in  an  amber  atmosphere,  the  eye  never  tires  of  en- 
joyment. I  have  sometimes  sat  with  you  by  the  hour  on 
a  starlit  summer  evening  on  the  roof  of  your  house  on  the 
high  hill  at  Piermont,  looking  over  the  broad  basin  of  the 
Tappaan  Zee.  Nearly  opposite,  nestled  among  the  trees, 
is  the  quaint  and  modest  house  of  Washington  Irving, 


Xli.  '  PREFATORY    LETTER. 

illustrious  historian,  most  chaste  and  charming  writer  of 
Eno-lish  undefiled,  holding  possession  undisputed  of  his 
native  patrimony  of  wit  and  humor,  bounded  by  smiles 
and  tears.  Long  may  he  live  upon  the  banks  of  that 
Eiver  whose  legends  are  blended  with  his  undying  fame, 
and  whose  tide  is  not  more  sparkling  and  full  of  pleasant 
images  thau  his  transparent  style. 

I  now  dedicate  to  you,  my  dear  C,  a  volume  which, 
however  simple  in  its  contents,  and  in  the  class  of  subjects 
of  which  it  treats,  has  during  the  last  twelve  months,  cost 
me  many  hours  of  pleasant  pains  and  patient  elaboration, 
and  a  large  part  of  it  has  already  passed  before  an  eye 
perhaps  too  partial  to  the  author.  But  although  it  is 
brought  to  an  end  for  the  present,  I  have  not  been  able  to 
include  within  its  moderate  compass  one  half  of  the  topics 
and  little  adventures  which  are  noted  down  in  my  tablets, 
my  ivory  tablets.  These  contain  hints  written  in  pen- 
cil, sometimes  under  a  spreading  tree,  sometimes  on  the 
bank  of  a  sparkling  stream,  or  in  a  meadow,  but  cannot 
be  deciphered ;  and  again  when  Memory  has  been  en- 
trusted with  something  worthy  of  preservation,  she  has 
turned  traitor. 


PREFATORY    LETTER.  Xlll. 

Many  books  have  been  already  written  of  the  like  de- 
sign. Of  these,  some  handle  topics  which  are  rather  sug- 
gested by  an  agreeable  retirement  in  the  country,  having 
about  them,  like  clothes  which  have  been  stored  away  in 
rose  leaves,  a  scent  of  the  blossoms  which  grew  around 
the  porch  where  the  author  was  writing,  but  with  no 
direct  allusion  to  the  I'oses  themselves.  Others  are 
acknowledged  and  scientific  works,  accurately  descriptive 
of  objects  in  the  external  world,  but  not  forbidding  by 
their  technicality ; — enriched  with  anecdote,  and  almost 
invariably  borrowing  from  the  pleasant  subject  on  which 
they  treat  a  style  flowing  and  harmonious.  Others  still 
are  the  works  of  amateur  sportsmen  and  men  of  the  world, 
who  throw  around  their  favourite  sports  and  amusements 
in  the  open  air  and  in  the  field,  the  charms  and  graces 
which  are  conferred  by  cultivated  taste  and  an  elegant 
education. 

There  is  the  "  Journal  of  Summer  Time  in  the  Coun- 
try "  by  the  Eev.  Robert  Aris  Wilmott,  happily  named, 
because  it  seems  to  be  inspired  by  the   influences  which 

breathed  around.     My  friend  D made  me  a  present 

of  a  copy  of  this  work  not  long  ago.     It  is  not  so  much  a 


Xiv.  PREFATORY    LETTER. 

journal  of  objects  in  the  country,  as  a  diary  of  thoughts 
and  meditations,  presenting  on  every  page  the  results  of  a 
fine  and  delicate  taste  and  appreciation  in  literature  and 
the  fine  arts,  enriched  by  apposite  allusion  and  happy 
quotation  from  authors  both  ancient  and  modern,  but 
especially  the  choice  old  writers  and  poets  of  England ; 
abounding  too  in  sharp  criticism  and  valuable  aesthetic 
essays, — in  all  respects  a  volume  well  deserving  the  esteem 
which  it  has  met.  One  is  brought  into  good  company  in 
this  book  wherein  we  have  at  least  a  gleam,  a  twinkle, 
and  a  recognition  of  beautiful  thoughts  which  have  been 
concealed  in  their  setting.  Had  I  that  alcove  of  books  to 
which  Mr.  Wilmott  was  so  fond  of  retiring  when  he  spent 
his  "Summer  Time  in  the  Country,"  nothing  would  have 
pleased  me  better  than  to  have  made  an  excursion  into  the 
fields  of  literature  after  recording  my  walk  in  the  woods 
or  meadows  ;  but  for  the  want  of  books  of  reference  I  was 
hampered  and  impeded,  and  obliged  to  give  up  my  design. 
Into  most  of  the  works  which  I  wanted  I  had  formerly 
dipped,  and  retained  on  the  intellectual  palate  a  grateful 
sense  and  flavour  of  the  good  things  contained  within 
them ;  but  as  it  is  an  insult  to  a  man  to  address  him  by  a 


PREFATORY    LETTER.  XV, 

wrong  name,  so  it  is  to  an  author  to  quote  him  incorrectly 
— as  you  stand  convicted  of  the  vanity  of  trying  to  im- 
prove his  sense.  In  the  few  quotations  which  I  have 
made  which  are  not  certified  by  reference  I  am  afraid  of 
being  guilty  of  this  fault,  and  plead  the  excuse  of  living 
in  the  country.  It  is  true  that  within  a  few  miles  I  have 
access  to  libraries  of  my  friends,  which  are  replete  in  clas- 
sic stores ;  but  I  never  was  gifted  with  the  patience  of 
Boswell  to  travel  far  in  order  to  be  certain  of  a  word  or 
of  a  date.  As  to  my  own  collection  of  books,  I  will  get 
down  on  the  marrow-bones  and  make  confession  in  this 
part  of  my  pilgrimage,  for  I  always  slam  the  door  of  my 
library  whenever  I  see  a  literary  man,  or  especially  a  the- 
ologian, draw  nigh. 

For  one  who  has  the  reputation  among  his  friends  of 
being  a  man  of  literary  tastes,  unless  you  made  allowance 
for  a  deficiency  of  purse,  you  might  consider  my  collection 
of  books  as  an  anomaly  in  character.  I  can  say  of  them 
truly,  as  of  Falstaflf 's  regiment,  "  No  eye  has  seen  suck 
scarecrows.  There  they  stand  in  the  ranks,  high  and 
low,  rich  and  poor,  old  and  young,  some  covered  with  gilt, 
others  literally  in  rags — some  corpulent,  and  some  thin  as 


Xvi.  PREFATORY    LETTER. 

laths—  some  of  them  with  dogs'cars,  and  others  not— some 
with  their  backs  well  whipped  by  the  censors  of  the  press 
who  hold  the  lash — others  in  clean  and  dainty  linen,  fos- 
tered and  pampered  for  the  very  dress  which  they  wear ; 
yet  such  as  they  are,  standing  side  by  side,  Delphin  Virgil 
next  to  Pilgrim's  Progress — Horace  Delphin  next  to  one 
of  Scott's  novels.  There  never  was  a  more  beggarly  array 
outside  of  Coventry.  I  have  no  Chaucer,  no  Shakspeare, 
no  Cowley,  no  Evelyn,  no  any  thing  which  I  want  most. 
But  I  keep  upon  my  parlour  table  a  copy  of  the  Bible  and 
of  tiio  Prayer  Book  to  represent  a  standard  library. 

The.se  remarks,  however,  on  books  in  general,  are 
leading  me  from  my  design  of  mentioning  some  particular 
works  on  rural  subjects  which  have  lately  happened  to  be 
on  my  table,  or  have  fallen  within  my  reach.  Of  Bartram 
and  Wilson  and  Audubon  I  need  not  speak,  because  they 
hold  a  distinct  and  elevated  position  as  scientific  authori- 
ties ;  but  in  addition  to  research  and  accuracy  on  topics 
which  are  by  no  means  dry  and  unattractive,  they  are,  for 
the  mere  charms  of  style,  to  be  ranked  with  some  of  the 
best  models  of  classic  composition.  Very  few  but  the 
purest  men,  gifted  with  a  sentiment  for  the  Beautiful,  and 


PREFATORY  LETTER.  XVll. 

native  taste,  are  disposed  to  devote  a  lifetime  to  such 
researches,  the  whole  tendency  of  which  is  to  load  them  to 
elevated  views  of  the  Divine  perfections,  to  a  cheerful  mo- 
ralizing, and  the  adoption  of  a  healthy  philosophy,  which 
looks  upon  the  bright  side  of  things.  They  are  the  bene- 
factors of  mankind. 

Downing's  work  on  Landscape  Gardening  is  the  best 
monument  of  its  lamented  author.  Had  he  lived  a  little 
longer,  ho  would  have  fulfilled  all  the  aims  of  an  honoura- 
ble and  earnest  ambition — but  in  the  prime  of  life,  and  in 
the  brightness  of  a  summer  morning,  he  sank  and  perished 
in  the  waves  of  that  very  river  whose  banks  he  had  done 
so  much  to  embellish  and  adorn. 

N.  P.  "Willis  is  the  author  of  "  Letters  from  Under  a 
Bridge,"  a  book  marked  by  all  the  peculiarities  of  a  cun- 
ning and  felicitous  writer,  who  still  from  his  home  at  Idle- 
wild,  contributes  papers  from  time  to  time  on  similar 
themes,  which  are  considered  among  the  most  happy  pro- 
ductions of  his  pen. 

My  friend  M ,\  who  is  too  modest  to  place  his 

name  on  a  title-page,  and   therefore,  without  his   pormis* 
sion,  I  shall  not  take  the  liberty  of  mentioning  it,  has  given 


XVili.  PREFATORY    LETTER. 

to  the  public  a  book  which  with  a  peculiar  aptitude  at  no- 
menclature, he  has  styled  "  Up-Country  Letters."  The 
title  alone  would  be  an  inducement  to  take  it  up.  It  is 
extremely  breezy,  and  does  great  credit  to  its  amiable 
author,  abounding  in  much  delicate  limning,  and  many 
sketches  of  character.  May  it  find  a  place  on  the  shelves 
of  every  library. 

It  is  only  within  the  few  past  weeks  that  I  received  a 
copy  of  "  Rural  Hours,  by  a  Lady,"  of  which,  though 
anonymous,  the  authorship  is  well  traced,  and  which  is 
already  extensively  and  favourably  known.  I  should  be 
sorry  to  omit  the  mention  of  this  book,  which  perhaps 
more  than  any  other,  cuts  into  the  exact  plan  of  this 
volume.  But  it  is  much  more  full  in  all  matters  concern- 
ing rural  life — a  complete  compend,  omitting  nothing.  In- 
deed it  would  be  diflBcult  to  think  of  any  thing  in  the  whole 
range  of  Nature  which  attracts  your  immediate  attention 
in  the  few  seasons  of  the  year  of  which  a  mention  is  not 
made  in  this  ample  volume.  Even  the  little  yellow  but- 
terflies which  hover  in  companies  by  the  wayside  pool,  are 
kindly  remembered. 

But  happily  the  subject  of  the  country  is  still  inex- 


PREFATORY    LETTER.  XIX. 

haustible,  and  there  is  an  infinite  variety  in  the  objects 
which  it  presents,  and  in  the  phases  which  afford  them- 
selves at  every  turn  to  the  eye  of  the  loving  and  faithful 
painter.  In  some  old  Flemish  pictures  which  I  have  ob- 
served, every  leaf  upon  a  tree  is  minutely  copied  with  a 
truth  and  fidelity  which  the  Daguerreotype  could  alone 
rival ; — and  this  one  tree  would  be  a  long  study  for  a 
master.  If  therefore  a  single  tree,  or  even  an  old  stump, 
be  worthy  of  transcription  with  its  few  knotted,  gnarled, 
crooked  and  dead  branches,  and  the  more  ungainly,  so 
much  the  more  picturesque,  and  better, — what  multitudes 
of  pictures  and  images  may  be  jotted  down  by  the  lover 
of  Nature,  let  him  direct  his  steps  whither  he  will,  but 
especially  in  those  favourite  and  secluded  spots  which  are 
peculiarly  his  own. 

There  is  indeed  no  object  so  desolate  in  the  country 
as  to  be  devoid  of  interest,  whether  it  be  a  stone  fence,  a 
corn-stack,  an  old  house,  or  an  old  barn.  One  of  the 
sweetest  poems  which  Burns  wrote  was  on  so  simple  a 
theme  as  the  turning  up  of  a  field-mouse  in  a  furrow.  On 
this  account,  it  would  appear  that  no  apology  can  bo 
needed  for  trenching  upon  trite  themes,  or  that  I  have 


XX.  PREFATORY    LETTER. 

said  so  much  about  my  chickens.  Whatever  spreads 
abroad  a  love  and  admiration  for  rural  pursuits,  is  so 
much  done  for  the  good  of  men.  The  prosperity  of  the 
country  is  marked,  not  so  much  by  the  growth  of  its 
cities,  as  by  the  enlarging  boundaries  of  its  cultivated 
lands.  Great  towns  are  peculiarly  suitable  for  none  but 
those  who  have  a  vigorous  ability  to  develope  commerce, 
or  to  occupy  some  appropriate  position  in  the  crowded 
mart.  The  collection  of  useless  members  in  their  purlieus 
produces  congestion  and  deadly  vice.  It  is  certain  that  a 
majority  of  the  energetic  young  men  who  are  growing  up, 
have  a  disposition  to  expend  their  enterprise  in  oiher  fields 
rather  than  in  those  literally  which  demand  culture  around 
them.  But  there  is  nothing  which  exercises  a  stronger 
influence  in  establishing  a  feeling  of  self  respect,  a  love  of 
country,  a  pride  of  citizenship,  a  veneration  for  sacred 
law  and  just  government,  than  the  sentiment  which  accom- 
panies the  possession  of  one  acre  of  a  man's  native  soil. 
All  the  bank  stock  in  the  world  would  not  produce  the 
same  effect.  And  in  our  happy  land,  no  man,  not  even 
the  poorest,  is  precluded  from  the  possibility  of  such  an 
ownership.     It  is  on  these  accounts  no  useless  or  unpro- 


PREFATORY    LETTER.  XXI 

fitable  task  to  endeavour  to  throw  around  the  idea  of  a 
home  in  the  country,  however  humble,  a  little  of  that  rosy 
embellishment  which  alleviates  toil  and  adds  to  its  intrinsic 
value. 

And  now  farewell.  Already  the  frosts  have  whitened 
the  ground.  Perhaps  before  another  spring  returns  to 
strew  the  earth  with  flowers,  and  the  voice  of  singing 
birds  is  heard  again,  I  shall  tempt  the  billows  of  the  deep, 
touch  for  the  first  time  the  shores  of  merry  England, 
stand  by  the  grave  of  Shakespeare,  the  banks  of  Avon, 
and  of  Ridal  Water.  May  the  voyage  be  prosperous,  the 
exploration  pleasant,  and  the  return  speedy. 


Oh,  how  canst  thou  renoUxVce  the  boundless  store 

OF  CHARMS  which  NATURE  TO  HER  VOTARY  YIELDS 

the  bubbling  FOUNTAIN,  THE  RESOUNDING  SHORE, 

THE  POMP  OF  GROVES  AND  GARNITURE  OF  FIELDS  ; 
ALL  THAT  THE  BOUNTEOUS  RAY  OF  MORNING  GILDS, 

AND  ALL  THAT  ECHOES  TO  THE  SONG  OF  EVEN  ; 
ALL  THAT  THE  MOUNTAIN'S  TOWERING  SUMMIT  SHIELDS, 

AND  ALL  THE  DREAD  MAGNIFICENCE   OF  HEAVEN 

OH,  HOW  CANST  THOU  RENOUNCE,    AND  HOPE  TO  BE  FORGIVEN? 

3S  e  a  1 1  i  e . 


UP    THE    RIVER. 


N  ingenious  friend  of 
-^  yours,  (shall  I  say  also 

of  mine  ?)  the  author  of 
ii^'"^-.  the 'Morning  Watch,'* 
^    i\  once  wrote  a  charming 

account     of    an    event 


which  is  apt  to  occur 
in  households.  As  it  was  true  to 
Nature,  the  language  came  home 
'familiar  as  Household  Words'  to 
the  bosoms  of  those  concerned; 
and  as  it  was  in  the  unwrought 
'^  "*  '  vein  of  epistolary  richness,  it  was 

as  pleasant  as  the  receipt  of  a 
bank-note  enclosed  in  a  letter  through  the  post- 
office.     It  has  already  been  pasted  in  note-books,  or 


*  And  also  of  the  "Up-Country  Letters." 


2  XJPTIIERIVER. 

folded  up,  duly  endorsed  with  the  date,  and  deposited 
in  some  pigeon-hole  for  future  reference,  as  a  docu- 
ment worthy  of  being  preserved.  For  my  own  part, 
I  have  it  in  memory,  which  is  tenacious  of  such 
matters,  and  in  a  bound  volume  of  the  Knicker- 
bocker JMagazine,  which  is  still  more  to  be  relied 
on  than  mere  memory. 

How  delightful,  and  beyond  the  value  of  the 
stamp,  is  a  sincere  letter  !  Newspaper  creates  ex- 
cessive anticipation,  but  what  is  that  compared  with 
a  well-known  handwriting,  and  a  red  seal,  broken 
open  with  avidity  because  we  know  that  a  message 
of  friendship  is  underneath?  But  one  gradually 
gets  out  of  the  habit  of  letter-writing.  As  cares 
multiply,  and  the  freshness  of  life  becomes  changed 
to  the  sere  and  yellow  leaf,  the  springy  feeling 
vanishes  which  gave  a  letter  its  delight,  and  it  be- 
comes a  cold  and  formal  scrawl.  For  myself,  the 
notion  seizes  me  to  express  myself  with  some  degree 
of  heart  in  this  mode,  not  perennially,  (as  girls  at 
boarding-school,)  but  annually;  or  rather  let  me 
say,  in  a  bad  coinage,  printem-ennially.  The  other 
night,  or  rather  morning,  (for  it  was  three  by  the 
watch  which  ticked  under  my  head,)  as  the  full, 
round,  dry,  brassy  moon  flooded  my  chamber  with 
light,  and  no  sleep  came,  I  said  to  myself,  'I  feel 


UPTHERIVER.  3 

like  writing  a  letter:  I  have  not  written  one  for  a 
year.  It  shall  be  to  the  dear  friend  of  fifteen  long 
years  of  unintermitted  friendship,  and  I  will  give 
him  an  account  of  my  first  attempt  at  housekeeping.' 
An  orchestra  of  whip-poor-wills,  sparrows  which 
sing  at  night,  chimney-swallows,  who  keep  up  an 
incessant  twittering  overhead,  and  dogs  baying  the 
silent  moon,  raucous  frogs  in  the  near  creek,  crying 
'Breke-ke-kex-koax-koax  P  and  one  mosquito,  the 
'first  of  the  season,'  did  not  act  like  McMunn's 
Elixir  on  nerves  indisposed  to  be  at  rest.  '  Lucifer !' 
At  the  word  of  incantation,  a  blue  Will-o-the-wisp- 
like  star  hung  in  mid-air,  and  a  strangulating  smell 
of  sulphur  filled  my  nose.  I  sat  down  to  write  until 
the  gray  dawn,  then  to  lie  down  again  and  sleep 
soundly  until  the  smell  of  coffee  and  the  tinkling  bell. 
My  dear  C — ,  {Here  the  letter  proper  begins,)  if 
there  be  any  luxury,  it  is  that  of  being  under  your 
own  roof,  whether  leaky  or  not.  This  sentiment  is 
never  experienced  but  by  Experience,  and  will 
never  be  more  forcibly  expressed  than  in  the  words 
of  our  own  John  Howard  Payne,  lately  deceased 
American  Consul  at  Tunis,  who  is  the  author  of 
that  ever-to-be-remembered  song,  beginning: 

"  'Midst  pleasxures  and  palaces  though  I  may  roam, 
Be  it  ever  so  homely,  there's  no  place  like  home." 


4  UP    THE     RIVER. 

My  home  at  present,  is  a  small,  ve*y  small 
house,  standing  back  from  the  highway,  and  almost 
lost  like  a  wren's  nest  amid  the  foliage.  It  is 
said  to  be  haunted,  but  no  ghosts  save  those  of  my 
own  thoughts  have  as  yet  troubled  me,  or  will 
do  so  during  my  residence  in  it,  as  I  am  not  particu- 
larly interested  in  the  theory  of  'spiritual  rappings.' 
Unfortunately,  as  I  had  it  well  white-washed  before 
going  into  it,  I  get  rubbed  every  day,  and  as  the 
story  above  stairs  is  only  a  half  story,  have  my  hat 
smashed  on  going  up,  if  I  am  such  an  ill-mannered 
idiot  as  to  wear  a  hat  in  the  house.  The  stairs  are 
so  precipitous,  that  I  also  tumble  up  and  tumble 
down.  Herein  the  first  difficulty  was  felt  in  my  first 
attempt  at  housekeeping.  I  had  an  old  bureau  very 
dear  to  me,  which  I  of  course  expected  to  have  up 
stairs,  but  after  sundry  trials  with  it,  lengthwise, 
and  edgewise,  and  otherwise,  the  engineers  stated  it 
as  their  opinion  that  it  could  not  go  up.  What  were 
we  to  do,  for  this  bureau  was  particularly  needed  ? 
In  a  fit  of  ill-humor  I  had  it  deposited  below,  where 
it  represents  an  old  side-board  very  well.  The  first 
day's  work  consisted  in  tacking  down  matting, 
which  will  look  very  decent  and  respectable  while 
the  summer  lasts;  and  in  getting  up  bedsteads, 
whereon  to  sleep  during  the  approaching  night ;  and 


UP    THE    RIVER  5 

in  unpacking  a  box  of  crockery,  so  as  to  obtain  cups 
and  saucers,  and  plates,  and  a  tea-pot,  in  order  that 
we  might  drink  tea.  For  a  loaf  of  bread  and  some 
butter,  and  a  bunch  of  radishes,  we  were  indebted 
to  the  kindness  of  a  neighbour :  and  the  first  meal  in 
our  new  house,  rest  assured,  was  not  without  relish; 
nor  was  the  first  rest  under  our  roof  not  sweet.  On 
the  next  day,  bright  and  early,  being  awakened  by 
the  sound  of  a  horn,  I  went  out  and  purchased  two 
'shads,'  one  for  breakfast,  the  other  for  dinner.  Rest 
assured,  also,  that  with  a  cup  of  coffee  and  bread- 
and-butter,  and  the  shad,  the  breakfast  passed  off 
well ;  and  in  less  than  half  an  hour  came  a  present 
of  a  bunch  of  fresh  asparagus  and  lettuce,  while  the 
butcher  passing  by,  and  perceiving  a  new-comer, 
provided  us  with  a  leg  of  lamb,  which  came  in  good 
time  for  a  new  stove,  just  put  up,  and  the  garden  was 
redolent  with  mint.  Thanks  !  thanks  !  My  mind  was 
now  much  at  ease,  and  I  forthwith  began  to  set  my 
house  in  order,  as  I  was  not  in  danger  of  starving  in 
the  meantime,  for  our  kind  neighbours  already  had 
their  eye  upon  our  wants.  Our  wants  are  many. 
There  is  no  end  of  the  things  essential  and  desirable 
in  housekeeping ;  and  after  you  have  anticipated  all 
which  you  could  think  of,  what  a  lack  remains  ! 
Cullenders,  and  sieves,  and  tubs,  and  buckets,  and 


e  UPTHE    RIVER. 

pails,  and  nutmeg-graters,  and  spice-boxes,  and  bas- 
kets, and  ropes,  and  cords,  and  rings,  and  clothes- 
pins, and  nails,  and  tacks,  and  hammers,  and 
saws,  and  brushes,  and  no  body  can  conjecture 
what  else  !  After  you  have  these,  the  demand  is 
still  the  same,  and  we  have  as  yet  been  reduced  to 
the  disagreeable  necessity  of  borrowing  much  of  our 
next  neighbor,  who  is  very  kind  and  forbearing. 
Now  I  begin  to  see  the  responsibility  of  housekeep- 
ing; but  after  all,  the  main  difficulty  is  at  the 
start. 

Having  got  fairly  settled,  one  of  my  first  thoughts 
was  in  the  direction  of  the  garden,  at  which  I  went 
to  work  with  all  the  zeal  imaginable,  and  it  has  al- 
ready cost  more  than  it  will  come  to.  This  how- 
ever, is  only  reckoning  by  dollars  and  cents.  For 
how  hard  it  is  to  buy  a  fresh  lettuce,  or  a  cucumber 
just  plucked  from  the  vines;  a  mess  of  peas  picked 
a  half  hour  before  they  are  cooked  ;  a  bunch  of  rad- 
ishes pulled  a  moment  ago  from  the  earth.  Your 
tomatoes,  early  potatoes,  sweet  corn,  beans,  and 
salsify,  bought  in  a  market,  are  really  valueless, 
compared  with  those  just  gathered  in  your  garden. 
Taste  and  see.  They  are  as  far  separate  from  one 
another  in  excellence  as  staleness  is  from  dewy 
freshness;    as  the  wilted  shrivelled  leaf    from  the 


UP    THE    RIVER.  7 

crisp,  crackling,  sparkling  vegetation.  What  then, 
if  I  have  hired  a  man  to  dig  my  garden,  shall  I  not 
be  recompensed?  There  is  a  sentiment  about  these 
things.  The  moment  that  you  begin  to  cultivate  a 
rood  of  ground,  the  dignity  of  a  landholder  begins. 
You  may  at  once  discourse  with  those  v\^ho  own  miles 
of  territory,  and  come  to  a  serious  consultation  with 
Professor  Mapes  as  to  the  best  modes  of  culture,  the 
best  seed  to  be  planted,  and  how  to  raise  most  on  half 
an  acre.  Since  I  planted  my  garden,  which  includes 
the  fourth  of  an  acre,  I  have  walked  in  it  once  or 
twice  a  day,  to  see  what  has  peeped  out  of  the  ground, 
and  whether  I  am  going  to  have  a  mess  of  green 
peas  and  sweet  corn  as  early  as  the  fourth  of  July. 
My  beans  are  the  most  ambitious  vegetable  which  1 
have  at  present.  They  have  outstripped  corn,  peas, 
cucumbers,  and  potatoes,  and  exhibit  themselves  in 
well-defined  rows  as  you  look  from  a  distance.  I 
have  some  okra,  parsnips,  carrots,  celory  in  the 
ground,  in  reference  to  soup  whereof  a  ready  plate, 
if  well  made,  is  not   to  be   despised,  and  having  a 

good  cellar 

By  the  by,  you  ought  to  see  my  cellar — deep,  ca- 
pacious, cool  as  an  ice-house,  and  already  contain- 
ing good  store  of  milk,  pot-cheese,  and  yellow  but- 
ter.    The  butter  of  Dutchess  county  is  as  good  as 


S  UPTHERIVER. 

that  of  Goshen,  sweet,  golden,  and  fragrant.  A 
daily  collection  of  crusts,  parings,  etc.,  have  lately 
impressed  my  mind  with  the  feasibility  of  keeping  a 
pig;  not  that  there  is  any  profit  in  it,  but  as  I  should 
undoubtedly  feed  him  w'ell,  his  pork  would  be  more 
rosy,  tender,  and  delicious;  the  fat  and  lean  more 
amicably,  inextricably  blended.  The  hams,  the  sau- 
sages, the  cheeks,  the  head-cheese,  the  souse,  pre- 
pared and  cured  at  home,  are  more  relishable.  Be- 
side all  this,  there  is  an  indefinable  pleasure  in  look- 
ing into  pig-pens.  The  porcine  grunt  which  greets 
the  sound  of  steps  indicative  of  feed,  the  nose  and 
fore-foot  thrust  into  the  dry  trough,  and  the  spectacle 
of  animal  appetite  carried  to  the  most  magnificent 
extent  of  which  it  is  capable.  There  is  satisfaction, 
surely,  in  seeing  the  refuse  which  you  have  offered 
accepted  with  such  avidity.  How  unlike  the  ungrate- 
ful beggars,  who  when  you  offer  them  a  ticket  for 
really  good  soup,  almost  spit  in  your  face  !  To  keep 
a  pig  I  am  now  nearly  resolved.  I  like  to  see  his 
tail  curl,  if  nothing  else;  and  I  like  to  see  him 
brought  home  on  a  man's  shoulders  in  a  bag,  squeal- 
ing tremendously. 

I  want  to  get  a  Shanghai  hen.  Do  you  know 
any  one  who  can  spare  a  Shanghai  hen?  I  would 
not  be  without  fowls,  especially  in  the  spring,  when 


U  P    THE    III  VER  9 

they  are  so  exorbitantly  dear  in  market.  Do  you 
recollect  that  spring  chicken,  whereof  we  partook 
not  long  since  ?  When  it  came  on  table  it  occupied 
as  much  space  as  a  spread  eagle  on  a  gold  coin,  no 
more.  'Speaking  of  chickens,'  permit  me  to  sym- 
pathise with  you  on  the  loss  of  your  rooster,  the  dis- 
tressing intelligence  of  whose  demise  reached  me  in 
the  Editor's  Table  of  the  May  Knickerbocker.  As 
I  read  your  account  of  finding  him  one  morning  stiff 
and  stark,  with  his  heels  in  the  air,  the  tears  almost 
came  into  my  eyes.  What  cut  off  your  bird?  Was  it 
the  pip,  or  was  it  the  gapes?  I  think  my  next-door 
neighbour  does  not  want  me  to  keep  chickens.  I  asked 
him,  'if  they  cost  as  much  as  they  came  to.'  'Yes,' 
he  said,  'a  great  deal  more.'  He  is  probably  afraid 
that  they  will  go  scratching  in  his  enclosures.  I  shall 
keep  the  chickens  and  stand  the  damage.  I  must 
have  my  fresh-laid  egg  for  breakfast.  You  know 
nothing  about  the  value  of  eggs  in  the  city,  except 
that  they  are  so  many  for  a  shilling.  An  egg  not  bad 
or  doubtful,  is  good  according  to  your  ideas :  but  let 
me  tell  you  that  a  stale  egg  differs  much  in  quality 
from  a  fresh  one  ;  and  when  you  come  to  live  in  the 
country,  you  grow  wise  in  these  things. 

This  is  a  beautiful  region.     The  everlasting-  moun 
tains,   inhabited  by  rattle-snakes,  gird   me   in,   and 


10  UPTHERIVER. 

the  solitude  is  only  broken  by  the  occasional  scream 
of  a  steam-whistle  on  the  Hudson  River  Rail-road. 
What  an  eye-sore  is  that  improvement  of  the  age  ! 
It  has  clipped  off  all  the  promontories  which  jutted 
into  the  river,  and  marred  the  beauty  of  every  choice 
residence  upon  its  banks,  interposing-  pools  of  stag- 
nant water  upon  its  line.  But  it  is  a  great  conve- 
nience after  all.  Science  is  an  irreligious  Vandal, 
and  makes  a  mock  at  beauty.  Farewell.  Perhaps  I 
shall  take  a  notion  to  write  another  letter  when  I 
get  my  hennery  in  full  action,  and  my  pig-pen  built. 
Come  and  hear  my  cocks  crow,  my  pig  grunt,  my 
dog  bark,  and  my  cat  mew  ! 


II. 


July  5th,  1852. 

HIS  year,  by  a  freak  of 
the  calendar,  the  glorious 
Fourth  falls  upon  Sunday, 
and  the  large  amount  of 
patriotism  in  the  country 
has  to  be  bottled  up  until 
Monday  morning.    When 
this  occurs,  the  clergy  get 
the  start  of  the  prophets 
le   groves   by   a   single   day, 
and  wrapping  themselves  up  in 
the  American  flag,  supersede  the 
legitimate  orators  of  the  day  by 
"^  a  little  pulpit  eloquence.     Prin- 

ciples of '76,  star-spangled  banner,  forefathers  of  the 
Revolution,  blood-bought  freedom,  together  with  a 
liberal  allowance  of  gunpowder  flashes  illuminate  the 


12  UP    THE    RIVER, 

track  of  sermons,  while  the  Fourth-of-July  Com- 
mittee attentively  listen,  and  the  little  Sunday-school 
boys  sit  underneath,  their  pockets  already  filled  with 
Chinese  crackers,  which  seem  expressly  made  for  the 
barbarians.  Are  the  citizens  of  this  free  country  going 
to  be  cheated  out  of  their  only  holiday  (Thanksgiving 
excepted)  by  the  intervention  of  a  Sunday  ?  Certainly 
not  !  Toward  sun-down,  a  little  of  the  effervescence 
begins  to  escape,  and  you  hear  the  popping  of  occa- 
sional guns  in  the  hands  of  young  men  of  a  defective 
piety,  and  stray  sparks  steal  into  a  few  Chinese 
packs.  Before  sun-rise  on  the  next  day,  the  banging 
and  bell-ringing  are  incessant,  and  soon  the  demand 
on  horse-flesh  is  unparalleled  with  any  day  in  the 
year.  It  is  the  festival  of  livery-stable  keepers,  and 
the  blistering  heat  makes  it  the  very  purgatory  of 
horses.  Villages  to  whose  turn  it  does  not  fall  to 
'celebrate'  soon  look  as  solemn  as  the  grave,  while 
the  highways  are  thronged  with  both  sexes  going  to 
the  fete;  and  the  display  of  white  trowsers  and  gay 
bonnets  is  immense.  Were  I  in  New-York,  I  should 
eschew  the  affectation  of  flying  to  the  country  to 
the  imaginary  pleasures  of  troublesome  pic-nics,  and 
would  stand  the  disgusting  racket  of  gunpowder  ex 
plosions  for  a  sight  of  the  soldiers  and  martial  dis- 
play, which  fills  me  with  delight.     But  not  having 


UP    THE    mVER.  13 

a  fancy  for  the  fussification  made  in  small  towns,  I 
shall  keep  quiet,  and  write  a  letter  to  my  friend  the 
'Old  Knick,'  no  doubt  at  this  moment  in  the 
shady  retreats  of  Dobbs'  Ferry,  unsealing  packets 
of  the  aforesaid  diabolical  crackers  for  the  patriotic 
and  juvenile  young  Knicks. 

Herein  I  may  adventure  perhaps  a  little  advice. 
Though  brimstone  may  be  appropriate  enough  for 
one  of  your  cognomen,  for  mercy's  sake,  do  not  train 
up  the  young  to  be  familiar  with  the  smell.  I  was 
standing  by  the  Park  Fountain  some  few  years  ago, 
waiting  for  the  fireworks  in  front  of  the  City  Hall 
to  be  let  off,  when  a  diminutive  boy  fired  a  heavily- 
loaded,  hard-rammed  pistol  at  my  very  ear.  I 
thought  I  should  have  gone  mad:  I  was  deaf,  dumb, 
blind,  nearly  choked  for  the  instant,  and  my  next  feel- 
ing was  one  of  revenge.  What  was  my  satisfaction, 
then,  to  see  an  elderly  gentleman,  whose  nerves  had 
been  alike  shattered,  single  out  the  offending  urchin, 
box  his  ears  soundly,  and,  though  I  was  sorry  to 
hear  him  swear,  apply  his  foot  with  a  hearty  good 
will  to  the  juvenile  rear  I  It  did  me  more  good 
than  the  'Battle  of  Navarino.'  If  it  were  worth 
while,  I  could  write  an  essay  full  of  detestation  for 
Chinese  crackers.  Yet  if  you  say  a  word  about  them 
m  this  country,  you  are  put  down.     I  was  on  one 


14  UPTIIERIVER. 

Fourth-of-July  evening  sitting  on  a  quiet  piazza, 
afar  from  the  noise  and  smoke  of  the  day,  as  I 
thought,  speaking  of  this  very  nuisance  to  a  very 
staid  and  religious  man  of  family.  I  said  that  there 
were  some  things  connected  with  the  observance  ^f 
this  day  which  should  be  repugnant  to  a  Christian 
people.  The  reading  of  the  Declaration  of  Indepen- 
dence, beside  being  a  great  bore,  because  nearly  all 
were  familiar  with  the  document,  was  an  unneces- 
sary trumping  up  of  old  grievances,  which  ought  to 
be  forgotten.  It  was  the  rekindling  of  animosities 
with  those  toward  whom  we  now  entertained  the  sen- 
timents of  peace  and  good-will.  And  beside,  I  said, 
for  my  Christian  friend  was  an  officer  of  the  Ameri- 
can Peace  Society,  'indulging  the  young  with  pistols 
and  gunpowder ' 

"Oh,  pa!  pa!  do  let  us  have  one  pack  more!  We 
won't  set  fire  to  anything,  indeed  we  won't." 

The  delegate  of  the  Peace  Convention  thrust  his 
arm  into  his  coat-pocket,  drew  out  a  string  of  red 
crackers,  flung  them  to  the  boy,  and  told  him  to  fire 
them  in  the  barrel.     So  the  argument  was  ended. 

Since  my  last  to  you,  some  little  progress  has 
been  made  in  housekeeping,  gardening,  and  so  forth. 
I  have  had  my  lawn  trimmed,  and  got  a  load  of  hay, 
so  that  I  shall  be  ready  for  horses  or  ready  for  asses. 


UP    THE    RIVER.  15 

The  first  are  more  useful,  the  latter  more  amusing. 
1  look  forward  with  higli  aspiration  to  keeping-  a 
cow.  A  degree  of  comfort  and  satisfaction  is  in- 
volved in  havmg  one  on  your  own  premises,  and  to 
notice  her  meek  look  as  she  stands  in  the  barn-yard 
of  a  summer  evening  letting  herself  be  milked,  and 
chewing  the  cud  (how  much  better  than  chewing 
the  quid!);  the  form  of  the  dairy-maid  by  the  side 
of  the  polished,  brass-girt  maple-pail:  the  hollow 
sound  of  the  snowy  cataract,  covered  with  bubbles 
and  effervescence,  and  the  squeezing  out  of  the  last 
rich  drops !  Occasionally  she  will  be  vicious,  for 
some  cows  are  undeniably  born  for  condemnation; 
and  I  do  not  know  in  the  course  of  my  rustic  obser- 
vation a  w'orse  animal,  and  one  more  possessed  by 
the  devil,  than  an  ill-disposed  cow.  She  is  stubborn, 
heady,  high-minded,  will  have  her  own  way,  open 
gates  w'ith  her  tongue,  or  her  teeth,  or  her  horns,  eat 
up  your  cabbages,  and  kick  over  the  pail.  Tie  her 
by  the  horns  to  the  fence,  and  whip  her  well  with  a 
long  stick,  but  do  not  heave  a  paving-stone  against 
her  side.  Vaccine  matter  alone  should  make  us 
grateful  to  the  whole  herd.  Above  all  things,  never 
sacrifice  your  temper  to  crooked  horns.  Think 
of  the  satisfaction  of  sitting  down  at  your  tea-table, 
with  your  elegant  hereditary  silver  milk-pot,  (or,  il 


J6  XIPTIIERIVETl 

you  have  not  silver,  one  of  Britannia  metal  will  dc 
on  a  pincli,)  containing  undiluted  milk.  (We  have 
no  pumps  in  this  neighbourhood.)  Go  into  your 
deep-dug  cellar,  and  look  at  those  shallow  dishes 
whereon  the  rich  cream  gathers,  and  oh  !  the  golden 
butter,  the  cheeses,  the  streams  of  buttermilk,  desi 
derated  by  pigs,  the  high  enjoyment  of  a  frozen  py- 
ramid on  a  sultry  night ! 

I  told  you  of  losing  my  canary,  did  I  not?  At 
any  rate,  I  will  furnish  the  particulars  now.  My 
friend  Lemon,  going  out  of  town,  gave  me  one  by 
name  Dicky,  an  accomplished  singer.  I  walked 
round  to  Archie  Grieves's,  in  Barclay-street,*  and 
bought  a  package  of  rape-seed;  and  that  afternoon 
we  bundled  ourselves  into  the  coach,  with  a  deal 
of  bother,  for  who  likes  to  carry  a  cage  on  his  lap? 
I  got  the  troublesome  trunks  on  board,  took  the  car- 
pet-bags and  cage,  and  hung  the  latter  on  a  hook 
under  the  deck  of  the  steamboat  'Armenia,'  which 
was  soon  on  her  way  to  Newburgh.  Got  the  bird 
ashore  with  much  trouble  and,  after  getting  packed 

*  ••Auuhik's  is  the  place  to  go  to,"  says  the  Editor  of  the  Knicker- 
iiockf.r;  "it  is  a  perlect  museum  of  four-footed  beasts  and  fowls  of  the 
air  :  dogs  of  all  descriptions,  big  and  little;  monkeys,  foxes,  rabbits, 
squirrels;  all  kinds  of  singing  and  other  birds,  including  that  •nm- 
ari.t,  a  verital)le  black  swan.  We  took  'Young  K.nmck'  there  one 
morning,  and  '  by  r  Lady'  twas  as  much  as  we  could  do  to  entice 
him  awav.     He  wanted  to  'see  the  monkeys  more  I' " 


UP    THE     IlIVER.  17 

somehow  or  other  into  a  crowded  coach,  held  the 
bird  again  with  much  inconvenience.  Let  him  out 
for  an  hour  or  so  on  Sunday  morning,  when  he  seem- 
ed much  at  home.  Put  him  in  again,  and  then 
placed  the  cage  on  the  piazza.  We  have  no  cat.  I 
do  not  keep  a  cat.  I  had  not  seen  one  near  the 
premises.  Tn  less  than  ten  minutes  a  nasty  black- 
and  white  one  came  creeping  and  skulking  along  the 
fence,  while  my  back  was  turned,  knocked  over  the 
cage,  and  let  out  the  bird  ;  and  as  I  ran  out,  nothing 
could  be  seen  but  a  glimpse  of  his  yellow  wing  and 
the  tip  end  of  the  tail  of  the  retreating  cat.  I  found 
Evelina  in  tears,  but  for  my  own  part  have  no  tears 
in  the  socket  for  misfortunes  of  this  kind.  I  have 
the  cage  still  on  hand.  Don't  you  know  where  I 
could  procure  a  good  canary  ? 

To  make  up  for  the  loss  of  our  canary,  we  have  a 
thousand  swallows  in  the  chimney,  who  keep  up  a 
continual  twittering  and  chattering  by  night  and  by 
day.  There  is  a  round  hole  in  the  fire-place,  through 
which  a  stove-pipe  was  wont  to  go.  The  other  morn- 
ing I  found  one  of  these  birds  sitting  therein,  dressing 
up  his  blue  wings  with  his  beak,  and  looking  into  the 
room  most  unconcernedly.  It  is  a  pleasure  to  see  them 
every  evening,  glancing  about  with  the  rapidity  of 
electric  flashes,   and  diving  down    at   last    into    the 


18  UPTIIERIVER 

square  mouthed  cavern,  from  which  they  are  not  at 
pretsent  in  danger  of  being  smoked  out.  They  keep 
their  feathers  in  excellent  order,  and  look  as  if  they 
liad  been  curried  and  rubbed  down  by  Zephyr.  We 
have  a  nest  of  wrens  near  by.  This  bird,  who  al- 
lows you  to  come  near  enough  to  put  salt  upon  his 
tail,  is  very  musical,  singing  constantly,  but  in  short 
snatches  immediately  repeated,  and  not  drawn  out 
like  the  notes  of  a  canary,  which  are  sometimes 
enough  to  make  you  stop  your  ears  with  wax,  and 
hold  your  breath.  The  other  day,  several  birds  in 
my  enclosure.  Sir  Robert  Lincoln,  Robin,  etc.,  the 
whole  conducted  by  Signor  Redhead  Woodpecker- 
iNi,  followed  one  another  in  a  curious  succession  of 
notes  which  very  closely  resembled  the  well-known 
air  in  Robert  le  Diahle : 

'Te-tcm — te  tum-te  turn — da-da-da-da. 
•  TuM-ra,  ra,  ra,  radadada-de. 
'  Te  RvM-ra  ra,'  etc.,  etc. 

At  this  season  of  the  year  a  great  many  birdlings, 
with  none  too  many  feathers  on  their  wings,  in  their 
first  attempts  to  fly,  fall  on  the  grass  and  chirp  long 
and  loud,  in  answer  to  the  call  of  the  parent-bird,  in 
consequence  of  which  you  easily  take  them.  I  yes- 
terday caught  a  young  robin,  but  he  pecked  my  hand 
so  severely  that  I  flung  him  back  into  the  lilac-bush. 


UPTHERIVEIl  19 

being  of  opinion  that  a  bird  with  such  a  temper  was 
not  worth  a  cage.  Sitting  in  my  quiet  study  in  this 
valley,  which  is  remarkably  cool,  (because  the  air 
perpetually  draws  through  from  the  river  like  a  fun- 
nel,) and  the  birds  continue  to  sing  as  vivaciously  as 
ever  at  mid-day,  I  was  just  thinking,  as  J  listened  to 
the  wren,  the  boblink,  and  the  cat-bird,  of  the  supe- 
riority of  nature  to  art.  I  have  heard  Jenny  Lind 
when  the  ears  of  five  thousand  were  literally  fed  on 
the  most  impalpable  and  attenuated  notes  of  that  di- 
vine voice,  as  the  same  number  of  people  were  once 
miraculously  fed  on  a  mere  morsel  of  bread.  But 
what  is  Lind  to  JjInnet? 


There  sings  with  glee,  upon  the  tree 

Before  my  chamber-door, 
The  sweetest  bird  I  ever  heard 

In  all  my  life  before 

The  trilling  note  which  shakes  his  throat 
Is  ricli,  and  ripe,  and  round ; 

Not  Jexny's  voice  has  to  our  choice 
More  melody  of  sound. 

In  wood  and  dell,  I  know  full  well, 
"Where  nightingales  are  heard, 

She  learned  in  part  her  blessed  art 
To  in:itnte  the  bird. 


Perhaps  you  may  wish  to  know  my  success  in 
gardening.  Never  was  the  head  of  a  neglected  boy 
more  scratched  than  my  enclosures  have  been  by 
my  neighbors'  fowls.     If  I  have  worked  an  hour  to 


20  UP     THE    RIVER. 

put  seeds  into  the  ground,  they  regularly  undo  the 
work  by  scratching  them  all  up,  and  then  making 
sundry  round  holes  to  deposit  their  vermin-covered 
])odies  in  the  cooling  earth.  Confound  them  !  if  I 
kept  such  a  thing  as  a  loaded  gun  I  would  scatter 
enough  dotv7i  over  my  garden  to  make  a  feather-bed. 
But  I  will  not  do  it,  because  I  consider  peace  better 
than  peas.  These  delinquent  chickens  are  perfectly 
conscious  of  guilt.  In  a  barn-yard,  where  they  are 
legitimately  scratching  on  a  dunghill,  they  let  you 
approach  within  a  foot;  but  in  a  garden,  where  they 
see  you  twenty  yards  off,  they  turn  tail,  put  their 
heads  down,  and  run,  as  if  they  expected  to  be  pep- 
pered with  shot.  Notwithstanding  these  provoking 
poachers,  who  have  materially  diminished  my  enthu- 
siasm for  the  hoe  and  spade,  I  have  managed  to 
raise  a  few  radishes.  What  more  refreshing  and  de- 
lightful, especially  in  early  spring,  when  sated  and 
disgusted  with  grease  and  animal  diet,  than  a  tum- 
bler full  of  short-top,  scarlet  radishes,  placed  upon 
your  tea-table,  to  be  accompanied  with  sponge-like 
bread  and  grass  butter?  How  fresh,  crisp,  crack- 
ling, sparkling,  they  are,  as  you  take  them  out  of 
water !  How  you  love  to  snap  them  in  two  like 
brittle  glass,  dip  the  endn  in  a  little  salt,  and  crack 
them  to  pieces  in  your  feverish   mouth !      Such  in- 


UP     THE    IlIVER.  21 

dulgence  is  a  harmless  epicurism,  which  the  present 
state  of  sumptuary  laws  does  not  forbid.  I  do  hope 
that  radishes  may  be  spared,  although  I  foresee  that 
the  days  of  salad  are  numbered,  because  lettuce  con- 
tains opium,  as  is  well  known.  On  Sunday  last  we 
enjoyed  a  simple  and  delicious  dinner,  which  did  not 
keep  the  cook  from  church,  and  did  not  take  half  an 
hour  in  preparation.  I  cannot  say  that  I  regret  to 
say,  that  it  was  neither  the  triumph  of  my  own  gar- 
den, nor  of  my  own  larder;  but  what  is  pleasanter, 
it  was  the  proof  of  neighbourly  kindness  :  a  mess  of 
Windsor  beans  and  of  juvenile  peas,  with  a  head  of 
lettuce  of  the  very  tenderest  and  most  crackling 
description,  dressed  according  to  the  recipe  of  Syd- 
ney Smith,  accompanied  with  a  ruddy  slice  of 
broiled  ham,  and  some  new  potatoes.  For  these 
and  all  His  other  benefits,  God's  holy  name  be 
praised ! 

Postscript:  July  14. — In  my  last,  in  the  course 
of  some  desultory  remarks  upon  fowls,  I  stated  my 
wishes  with  regard  to  a  Shanghai  hen,  not  supposing 
that  many  of  that  breed  cackled  on  this  side  the  Him- 
alaya Mountains.  This  day,  at  the  hour  of  three, 
while  dining  very  frugally  on  some  marrowfat  peas, 
young  beans,  a  salad,  and  some  few  slices  of  bacon, 


22  UP    THE    RIVER. 

while  at  the  same  time  the  refreshing  rain  was  fall- 
ing upon  the  parched  earth,  and  the  fogs  drifted  over 
the  mountains,  I  observed  a  carriage  at  the  gate. 
Presently  there  was  deposited  a  basket  well  covered 
with  canvas;  and  on  peeping  in,  1  discovered  a  cock 
and  hen  of  the  Shanghai  breed  !  A  polite  missive  ac- 
companied the  same,  and  on  the  card  which  contained 
the  donor's  name,  was  written  in  pencil,  'Behold 
THE  Shanghais  !'  This  was  the  considerate  gift  of  a 
gentleman  who  has  a  charming  place  near  the  banks 
of  the  Hudson  river,  to  me  at  present  a  stranger. 
I  put  the  fowls  in  the  corn-crib,  and  they  have  kept 
up  a  prodigious  cackling,  drumming  of  the  wings, 
and  crowing  ever  since.  The  Shanghais  crow  very 
strong.  I  am  now  going  into  the  business  of  raising 
fowls  in  earnest,  and  will  bring  you  a  basket  of 
eggs  when  I  come  again.  The  oysters  which  I 
promised  you  when  I  lived  on  the  water-side  I  could 
not  well  send,  because  when  I  had  them  ready,  a 
party  of  friends  arrived,  and  we  ate  them  up. 

SuN-DowN. — The  neighbours  have  been  over  to 
look  at  the  fowls.  There  is  at  present  a  prevalent 
fancy  for  high  breeds.  They  are  imported  from  the 
ends  of  the  earth,  and  sold  at  a  costly  valuation. 
The  other  day,  being  at  the  steamboat  landing  I  no 
ticed  a  box  covered  with  slats,  addressed  to  some 


UP    THE    RIVER. 


23 


person  in  the  western  part  of  this  State.  It  contained 
a  great  variety  of  unknown  fowls,  by  no  means 
like  those  which  were  seen  by  the  hungry  Peter, 
which  he  considered  'common.'  Their  feathers 
varied  from  the  meekest  dove-color  to  an  almost 
tropical  brilliancy.  Among  the  lot  I  recognized  the 
towering  Shanghais  ^nd  the  beautiful  Lilliputian 
Seabright  Bantam,  Pride  m  miniature. 

II. 


ill 


July  18,  1852. 

N  my  last  I  informed 
you  of  the  reception 
of  a  couple  of  Shang 
hais,  a  cock  and  a  hen. 
They  are  docile  and 
magnificent  birds,  dis- 
tmguished  by  an  erect 
military  carriage,  and 
with  voices  which  ap- 
pear to  be  clarified  with 
K  rock  candy.  I  put  them 
in  the  crib  for  three  or 
four  days  until  they 
should  become  domesti- 
cated. But  they  imme- 
diately take  to  their  new 
home.  How  diflTerent 
■"  from  cats  ! 

This  is  not  the  first  time  that  I   have  received 
presents   of   this   kind:     not    long    since    some   im- 


UP    THE    RIVER.  25 

perial  sherry ;  and  I  have  my  doubts  whether  the 
course  for  me  would  not  be  to  turn  imperial  beg- 
gar, to  come  out  boldly  and  state  my  wants,  when 
there  is  no  'manner  of  doubt'  that  they  would 
be  supplied;  for  there  are  so  many  people  who,  to 
quote  the  language  of  Mr.  Smith,  my  neighbour, 
'  take  an  interest  into  me,'  that  I  should  have  my 
enclosures  full  of  blood  stock.  1  learn  by  your  note 
to  me  that  you  went  to  Morris's  great  sale  at  Ford- 
ham  fully  cocked  and  primed  with  the  intention  of 
procuring  Shanghais,  which  was  baffled  because 
only  short-horns  and  Durhams  were  offered  by  the 
auctioneer.  A  dreadful  fatality  attends  our  efforts, 
when  directed  toward  making  a  gift !  It  would  not 
be  at  all  surprising  if  I  got  another  pair  of  Shanghais 
from  some  quarter  or  other,  but  this  would  be  a 
work  of  supererogation,  as  I  am  already  supplied. 
The  yellow  legs  of  these  fowls  are  covered  with 
down,  and  they  afford  a  fine  chance  for  the  abandoned 
chicken-stealer,  as  they  permit  you  to  take  them 
from  the  roost  without  flutter  or  noise.  Their  ex- 
cellence was  discovered  by  the  missionaries  at 
Shanghai  in  China,  and  you  will  find  their  pictures 
drawn  to  the  life  in  books  on  poultry.  If  I  mistake 
not,  that  excellent  work  written  by  Mr.  Abuah  Cock 
was  published  before  the  importation  of  the  bird. 


26  Ur    THE    RIVE  11. 

Some  people  in  these  parts  have  lately  turnec! 
their  chickens  and  even  cattle  into  the  oat-fields. 
It  would  remind  you  of  Pharaoh's  times  to  walk 
abroad,  for  the  grasshoppers  have  become  'a  burden.' 
They  literally  strip  the  fields  of  vegetation,  and  go  in 
hosts.  After  consuming  the  corn,  the  hay,  and  the 
oats,  in  their  raging  gluttony  they  hop  into  the  win 
dows,  and  attack  the  rugs  and  carpets.  The  othei 
day  they  bit  my  hand  and  bit  my  cheek,  and  ate  a 
hole  in  my  new  coat,  and  their  mouths  are  full  of 
molasses.  Hops  are  abundant,  but  other  crops  will 
be  rare.  Hay  is  already  exorbitantly  high,  I  mean 
in  the  market.  On  the  edges  of  the  high-ways  they 
have  literally  gnawed  out  the  roots  of  the  grass,  leav- 
ing the  surface  as  bare  as  the  Boston  Common  after 
the  Fourth  of  July.  Frogs,  who  have  hitherto  car- 
ried off  the  palm  in  hopping,  leap  into  the  wells  out 
of  sheer  vexation,  and  remain  in  their  cool  seclusion 
until  drawn  up  in  buckets. 

While  the  locusts  this  year  move  in  advance,  and 
the  grasshoppers  forage  among  the  corn.  General 
Potato-bug  has  squatted  down  with  his  innumerable 
hosts  in  the  gardens  and  patches  At  night  they  be- 
take themselves  to  their  brown  wings,  and  with  their 
stomachs  full  of  potatoes  sit  down  in  a  new  place 
I  have  impaled  a  half-dozen  of  them  on  the  steel 


UP    THE    lilVEll.  27 

point  which  writes  this,  and  I  now  proceed  to  attack 
them  with  my  pen.  For  other  kind  of  bugs  you  use 
quills,  only  the  feather  end,  dipped  in  corrosive  sub- 
limate instead  of  corrosive  ink.  But  of  these  ene- 
mies of  the  Irish  people  nobody  knows  how  to  get 
rid.  They  are  a  teeming  nuisance,  and  if  you  mash 
one  of  them  on  your  hand  it  immediately  raises  a 
blister,  like  the  monkey's  kiss  inflicted  on  the  dear 
little  sister  of  the  baboon.  It  is  supposed  that  the 
incursion  of  the  bugs  is  owing  to  the  want  of  more 
stringent  game-laws,  but  in  Pharaoh's  times,  when 
they  did  not  go  a-shooting  they  had  them  in  abun- 
dance. It  is  more  than  probable,  however,  that 
the  Egyptians  excelled  in  snares,  and  got  more  birds 
than  we  do  now  by  powder  and  shot.  Ho  torto  o 
ragione:  am  I  right  or  wrong? 

Nineteenth. — To-day  it  is  hot,  hot  !  Walking 
among  the  mountains  to  get  milk-weed,  I  came  up- 
on a  clear  stream  fretting  over  the  stones.  Search- 
ing out  a  resplendent  pool  where  the  willows  drooped, 
taking  a  bird's-eye  view  lest  some  Musidora  might 
be  at  hand,  looking  around  warily  to  see  that  the 
coast  was  clear  of  snakes,  I  stuck  my  cane  into  the 
velvet  turf  upon  the  marge,  and  hanging  thereon  a 
Deacon   shirt,  upon  my  word,  accoutred  as   I  was,  I 


28  UP    THE    mVER. 

plunged  in.  O  foiis  BandusicR  splendidior  vitro !  O 
delightful  rivulet  in  Dutchess  county,  clear  as  crys 
tal !  how  refreshing  to  the  weary  traveller  in  search 
of  milk-weeds  !  How  welcome  each  advancing  rip- 
ple, pictured  and  tinted  with  the  wild  rose  which 
grew  upon  tlie  marge,  as  if  the  spirit  of  the  flower 
had  become  detached  from  its  corporeal  form,  and 
been  translated  to  the  lymph  !  It  was  a  bath  of  roses, 
O  my  friend,  which  Croton  fascets  and  pewter  tubs 
cannot  aflbrd.  For  who  would  touch  a  filthy  flesh- 
brush  ! — oh  horrible  ! — hung  up  for  general  use  in  the 
steaming  bath-house,  when  he  can  have  the  friction 
of  the  willow-branches,  which,  like  the  long  hair  of 
the  Nereids,  float  upon  the  stream?  More  pleasant 
far  to  let  your  head  rest  upon  a  rock,  to  be  embraced 
and  cradled  by  the  living  waves,  cast  your  eyes  up 
to  the  blue  sky,  mark  the  castles,  mountains,  and 
Alpine  masses  formed  by  tlie  while  clouds,  and  with 
a  soul  purified  from  every  earthly  stain,  and  every 
jierve  re-strung,  imagine  much,  and  gather  strength 
and  courage  in  your  buoyant  arms,  which  just  hung 
nerveless  at  your  side.  There  as  I  lay  I  heard  with 
satisfaction  the  sound  of  the  broiling  locusts,  and  the 
horns  which  called  the  laborer  to  his  meal,  and  the 
enchanting  music  of  the  bobolink.  The  cat-bird  sang 
his  superior  cavatina  in  the  bush;  the  larches  and  the 


U  P    T  H  E    11 1  V  E  R  .  29 

mountain-pines  swayed  with  a  taint  celestial  melody  ; 
the  willows  sio^hed.  Then  came  floating  alonff  in  the 
amber-cells  of  the  refreshed  brain  sweet  memories 
of  the  poets;  what  Horatius  says  in  his  odes  ;  what 
ViRGiLius  in  his  eclogues;  what  Plinius  in  his  let- 
ters ;  what  the  classic  muse  of  Izaak  Walton, 
and  all  the  Aldine  bards.  From  the  bath  one 
rises  up  a  better  man ;  and  he  must  be  a  grovel- 
ling wretch  indeed  who  would  go  to  do  a  mean  or 
sordid  act  before  his  hair  is  dry.  It  allays  the 
mind,  quickens  intellect,  abates  ennui.  Oh!  how 
flat,  weary,  stale,  and  unprofitable  does  life  appear 
'in  a  dry  and  thirsty  land  where  no  water  is  !'  The 
earth  is  regenerated  in  baptism.  In  my  present 
domicile  I  have  one  substitute  for  a  bath,  which  I 
admit  is  a  poor  one,  and  would  meet  with  the  con- 
tempt of  any  Turk,  and  that  is  a  sponge  and  big  tub, 
in  which  I  dabble  two  or  three  times  a  day,  reading 
or  writing  at  the  same  time.  That  is  what  I  am  do- 
ing now,  and  it  is  no  small  matter  to  keep  the  paper 
dry.  Sometimes  w-hen  it  rains  I  sit  on  a  stone  under 
a  gutter  at  the  corner  of  the  house  pushing  aside  a 
A-ild  rose-bush,  and  so  take  it.  This  is  good,  but 
the  country  is  at  present  afflicted  with  drouth.  The 
corn  wants  a  drink.  The  blades  demand  it  both  here 
and  in  the  state  of  Maine,  but  heaven  and  earth  at 


30  UP    THE    RIVER. 

present  distil  nothing.     What  will  become  of  us  if 
we  want  water  as  well  as  rum  ? 

It  is  glorious  toward  the  close  of  a  sultry  day, 
when  you  can  see  the  flood  of  rarified  air  play  and 
vibrate  over  the  fields  like  a  fine  steam,  to  hear  the 
cry  :  '  There  is  a  shower  coming  !'  and  presently 
the  sun  is  clouded,  fresh  breezes  fan  the  forehead, 
the  clouds  come  trooping  over  the  mountains  in  de- 
lightful angry  blackness,  the  thunder  rolls,  the 
forked  lightnings  begin  to  play,  the  dust  and  leaves 
whirl  in  eddies,  and  in  the  distance  you  hear  a  steady 
roar,  like  the  beating  of  breakers  on  the  coast.  Then 
come  a  few  hail-shots  from  the  advance-guard  of  the 
storm,  then  a  few  icy  flakes  and  round  pellets  tum- 
bling from  the  piazza.  The  winds  grow  furious ;  the 
trees  bend  low ;  the  brittle  willow  branches  and  worm- 
eaten  locust-boughs  fall  to  the  ground ;  and  at  last,  in 
one  illuminated  sheet,  illuminated  by  constant  flashes 
the  rain  falls.  How  great  the  disappointment  when 
the  clouds  promise  the  impending  storm,  marshal 
themselves  for  an  hour  on  the  mountain-tops,  then 
pass  by  to  discharge  their  honey  on  some  othei 
thirsty  place  !  Sometimes  we  are  envious  of  Orange 
sometimes  of  Westchester.  We  see  the  fallin;/- 
showers  in  the  distance,  and  know  that  other  parts 
of  the  heritage  are  refreshed  while  we  pant  and  fan 


UP    THE    RIVER.  31 

ourselves,  and  the  heated  pig  stretches  himself  at 
full-length  in  the  way-side  gutter — a  picture  of 
beastly  luxury  which  makes  one  smile.  While  I 
now  write  all  this  is  coming  to  pass.  My  apples 
and  plums  are  fast  falling  to  the  earth,  shaken  off 
by  the  wanton  wind.  The  girl  has  just  brought  in 
an  egg  laid  by  the  Shanghai  hen,  guided  to  the  nest 
by  a  triumphant  cackle,  which  proclaimed  that 
another  egg  was  laid. 

Speaking  of  birds,  one  remark,  if  you  please,  on 
robins.  There  is  a  nest  upon  a  neighbouring  tree, 
and  I  was  glad  to  see  their  young  mouths  open,  and 
the  earth-worm  dropped  by  the  parent-bird  into  the 
ruddy  gulfs.  At  last  they  took  their  first  lessons  in 
the  flying  art,  venturing  from  limb  to  limb,  and  from 
bush  to  l)ush.  A  hawk,  wheeling  in  bold  circles, 
and  with  his  eye  intent,  at  one  fell  swoop  seized 
one  of  these  young  innocents  in  his  talons,  and  cropt 
his  education  in  the  bud.  He  was  pursued  and 
picked  at  by  a  number  of  little  screaming  birds,  but 
bore  his  prey  aloft  to  a  mountain  rock,  where  he  picked 
out  its  eyes  and  fluttering  heart.  Munching  and 
chewing  at  his  entrails,  the  gluttonous  hawk  might 
say,  '  This  is  a  tender  pullet,  and  has  grown  fat  on 
flies.  Many  an  insect  has  he  deprived  of  its  new- 
born young.'     There  is  some  truth  in  such  ratiocina- 


32  U  P     T  H  E    R  I  V  E  R  . 

lion  no  doubt.  What  am  I  doing  myself,  at  this 
moment.  Writing  by  candlelight,  and  the  bugs  and 
millers,  (to  say  nothing  of  the  buzzing,  disgusting 
beetles, who  bump  their  heads  against  the  wall)  bother 
me  so  much,  getting  into  the  eyes,  into  the  nose, 
and  into  the  mouth,  that  the  paper  on  which  this  is 
scrawled  is  full  of  victims.  In  one  corner  lies  Mos- 
quito at  full  length,  hammered  flat  with  a  blow  of 
the  fist,  with  his  long  antlers  stretched  out,  and  his 
tune  arrested  in  the  midst:  in  another  Mr.  Miller 
is  laid  out  dead.  I  have  killed  an  hundred  organisms 
more  ingenious  than  any  Yankee  clock  in  as  many 
seconds,  while  others  have  committed  suicide  by  fly- 
mg  into  the  flame.  So  might  the  hawk,  if  as  wise 
as  the  owl,  pounce  upon  me  in  argument,  and  say, 
'This  IS  all  right.  It  is  the  way  of  the  world.'  But 
I  was  sorry  that  this  particular  robin  should  mourn 
the  tragic  fate  of  its  young,  and  I  will  tell  )'ou  why. 
The  other  day  he  did  what  no  other  adult  robin 
lever  did  in  my  knowledge,  and  caused  a  singular 
portent  or  omen  to  occur.  He  hopped  upon  the 
shoulder  of  a  good  boy,  standing  upon  the  lawn,  and 
for  five  minutes  sang  a  song  in  his  very  ear.  'Oh!' 
said  the  little  boy,  who  stood  as  still  as  a  piece  of 
sculpture,  and  scarcely  breathed,  'it  was  so  sweet! 
it  was  so  musical !'     Perhaps  it  might  have  been  to 


UP    THE    RIVER.  33 

thank  the  family  for  the  protection  afforded  to  his 
nest,  and  for  the  veto  on  percussion  guns,  and  for 
the  largess  of  daily  crumbs.  He  seemed  to  say, 
'My  family  are  now  fledged,  and  in  a  few  days  will 
go  to  seek  their  fortune  in  the  world.  In  another 
year,  when  they  become  parents  themselves,  they 
will  build  their  nests  upon  the  self-same  bough. 
Thanks,  kind  people  !  Until  another  blooming  spring 
farewell !' 

I  have  received  a  letter  with  this  impertinent 
query,  'At  what  time  in  the  afternoon  do  you  break- 
fast?' I  do  not  breakfast  in  the  afternoon.  I  am  out 
to  'meet  the  sun  upon  the  upland  lawn,'  to  look  up- 
on the  jeweled  blades.  Sometimes  I  oversleep  my- 
self (the  other  day  by  four  hours)  over  the  usual 
time,  for  the  want  of  a  Yankee  clock,  but  the  next 
morning  balanced  the  books,  and  made  the  equation 
right  by  a  mistake  the  opposite  way.  My  watch  is  out 
of  order,  having  been  running  four  years  without  tin- 
kering or  quackery,  which  is  longer  than  the  human 
system  keeps  a-going  without  medicine  in  these  dys- 
peptic times.  My  watch  lies  under  my  pillow,  (tick 
upon  tick,  or  at  least  it  did  the  other  day,  for  when 
I  drew  it  out,  it  was  half-past  ten  o'clock.  I  sprang 
up  in  hot  haste,  swallowed  hot  coffee,  and  had  the 
breakfast  swept  away  with  the  same  rapidity  that 


34  U  P    THE    RIVER. 

some  people  dispatch  dinner.  In  an  hour  after  I  sent 
over  to  the  neighbours  to  compare  time,  and  lo ! 
it  was  half-past  five  o'clock,  and  a  pleasant  morn- 
ing !  My  time-piece  had  stopped,  and  the  hands  still 
pointed  to  half-past  ten.  The  Yankees  make  brass 
clocks  which  are  sold  for  one  dollar,  and  not  'poor 
pay  poor  preach'  either,  for  they  'lectur"  upon  time 
with  all  truth  and  propriety,  and  are  an  active  exam- 
ple of  'good  works.'  Will  not  the  Yankees  make  a 
piano  at  the  same  price,  which  will  play  as  well  as 
their  watches  work?  They  cannot  do  it.  This  I 
only  say  by  way  of  throwing  out  the  gauntlet  and 
challenging  them  to  try,  for  if  they  can  invent  a 
machine  for  a  dollar  to  keep  time,  that  is  the  most 
important  part  of  music. 

I  have  been  much  amused  in  observing  the  action 
of  one  or  two  patent  churns  to  go  by  'dog-power.'. 
They  work  extremely  well.  Nothing  short  of  a 
horse,  as  you  know,  is  taken  into  account  as  a  unit 
in  the  admeasurement  of  the  mighty  strength  dis- 
pensed by  steam.  We  say  an  engine  of  so  many 
horse-power.  Still,  dog-strength  is  considerable, 
and  although  it  would  not  move  a  gigantic  engine,  it 
will  suffice  for  a  machine.  We  make  a  distinc- 
tion betwixt  an  engine  and  a  machine.  The  one 
shows  ingenuity,  the  other  power  and  ingenuity  com- 


UPTHERIVER.  35 

bined.  A  dog  has  excellent  lungs,  full  of  breath. 
Observe  Carlo,  or  Ponto,  or  Nep,  or  Bose,  (or 
whatever  your  dog's  name  is,)  when  you  ride  out 
You  may  drive  at  full  speed,  like  my  friend  Smith, 
over  a  plank-road — for  Smith  always  drives  fast — 
but  the  dog  which  accompanies  the  horses  goes  ten 
times  as  far,  now"  jumping  up  as  if  to  catch  them  by 
the  lip,  then  running  a  quarter  of  a  mile  ahead  after 
butterflies  or  swallows,  and  returning  again  ;  now 
taking  a- zig-zag  course  from  one  side  to  the  other  of 
the  road,  and  finding  time  to  swim  streams  and  fight 
a  dozen  battles  by  the  way ;  yet  always  fetching  up 
with  the  carriage  moderately  panting,  and  with  only 
a  few  crystal  drops  distilling  from  the  end  of  his 
tongue.  Observing  these  traits  of  endurance,  the 
Yankee,  the  ingenious  Yankee,  devoted  his  attention 
to  the  application  of  dog-power.  The  horse,  placed 
on  a  vile  treadino^-mill  to  ffet  the  chaflf  out  of  wheat, 
is  inadequate  to  the  task  :  his  eyes  bulge  out  of  his 
head,  and  he  soon  becomes  blind  and  dies  ;  but  a 
man  of  common  acutencss  could  see  that  the  dog 
was  the  very  animal  to  accom})lish  this  kind  of  work. 
Hence  we  date  the  origin  of  churning-machines  to 
go  by  dog-power.  They  have  accomplished  a  per- 
fect triumph;  and  those  who  have  large  dairies  can- 
didly confess  that  they  could  not  do  without  them 


36  UP    THE    RIVER. 

I  lately  saw  a  dog  in  the  course  of  training,  and 
at  first  he  evidently  did  not  like  it.  He  held  back, 
refused  to  step,  and  was  nearly  choked  by  the  collar. 
But  with  a  good  deal  of  coaxing  he  was  prevailed  on 
to  make  the  machine  churn  a  little.  The  other  dog, 
whom  I  have  in  my  eye,  for  the  mort  part  loved  to 
churn.  At  times  he  would  skulk  away  when  he  felt 
unwell  or  lazy,  but  he  would  frequently  of  his  own 
accord  come  and  jump  upon  the  mill,  and  set  it 
a-going  an  hour  at  a  time,  of  his  own  free  choice, 
with  no  collar  about  his  neck,  when  he  could  jump 
off  at  any  moment,  and  making  the  meanwhile  the 
goldenest  and  best  butter  in  Dutchess  county.  The 
master  of  this  dog  has  placed  a  carpet  on  the  rim  of 
the  wheel,  to  prevent  his  feet  from  becoming  sore — 
a  wise  and  humane  precaution.  I  do  not  know  when 
I  was  more  gratified  than  to  see  him  the  other  day 
orderly  stepping  it  off  over  the  carpeted  circumfer- 
ence, hanging  his  tongue  out,  it  is  true,  and  casting 
side-long  glances  of  the  meekest  kind,  but  perseve- 
ring with  a  noble  ambition  toward  the  great  work  of 
making  good  butter.  It  was  a  devotion  of  his  dog- 
powers  alike  beautiful  and  sublime,  as  far  as  beauty 
and  sublimity  can  be  applied  to  the  dairy. 


UPTHERIVER.  37 

Twentieth. — This  morning  the  Shanghai  hen  laid 
another  egg,  of  a  rich  brunette  complexion,  which 
we  took  away,  and  replaced  by  a  common  vulgar 
egg,  intending  to  reserve  the  Shanghai's  in  a  cool 
place  until  the  time  of  incubation.  Very  much 
amused  was  I  with  the  sequel.  The  proud  and 
haughty  superiority  of  the  breed  manifested  itself  by 
detecting  the  cheat  and  resenting  the  insult.  Shang 
and  Eng  flew  at  the  supposititious  egg  with  the  ut- 
most indignation  and  picked  it  to  pieces,  scratching 
the  remnants  of  the  shell  from  the  nest.  I  am  now 
very  much  afraid  lest  Mrs.  Eng  should  '  steal  a  nest,' 
and  set  upon  a  parcel  of  eggs  spoiled  by  the  intense 
heat.  But  as  she  understands  the  philosophy  of 
hatching  better  than  I,  perhaps  she  will  make  it  all 
right.  I  must  take  the  hint  conveyed  by  the  severe 
reproof  of  the  broken  shell,  and  remove  no  more 
eggs.  There  is  one  peculiarity  of  these  fowls  which 
deserves  to  be  mentioned.  When  I  removed  mine 
from  the  basket,  I  thought  that  the  worthy  donor 
had  clipped  their  wings  to  prevent  them  from  flying 
away,  or  scaling  the  hennery.  On  farther  knowledge 
I  have  learned  that  their  style  and  fashion  is  that  of 
the  jacket  sleeve  and  bob-tail  coat.  Their  eminent 
domesticity  is  clearly  signified  by  this,  because  they 
cannot  get  over  an  ordinary  fence,  and  would  not  if 


38  UP    THE    IIIVER 

they  could.  It  is  because  they  have  no  disposition 
to  do  this,  that  Nature  has  cropt  them  of  their  su- 
perfluous wings,  and  given  them  a  plumage  suitable 
to  their  desires.  '  Their  sober  wishes  never  learn  to 
stray.'  They  often  come  into  the  kitchen,  but  never 
go  abroad  to  associate  with  common  fowls,  but  re- 
main at  home  in  dignified  retirement.  Another  thing 
remarkable  and  quite  renowned  about  this  breed  is, 
the  oriental  courtesy  and  politeness  of  the  cock.  If 
you  throw  a  piece  of  bread,  he  waits  till  the  hen 
helps  herself  first,  and  often  carries  it  to  her  in  his 
own  beak.  The  feathered  people  in  the  east,  and 
those  not  feathered,  are  far  superior  to  ours  in  those 
elaborate  and  delightful  forms  of  manner  which  add 
a  charm  and  zest  to  life.  This  has  been  from  the 
days  of  Abraham  until  now.  There  are  no  common 
people  in  those  realms.  All  are  polite,  and  the  very 
roosters  illustrate  the  best  principles  laid  down  in 
any  book  of  etiquette.  Book  of  Etiquette!  What 
is  conventionalism  without  the  in-born  sense !  Can 
any  man  or  beast  be  taught  to  be  mechanically  po- 
lite ?     Not  at  all :   not  at  all ! 

As  this  letter  is  all  about  birds,  although  not  writ- 
ten with  a  quill,  but  with  an  abommable  steel  pen, 
of  which  the  right-hand  nib  is  w^orn  out,  I  must  tell 
you   that   the   swallows'   nest  has  fallen  down  the 


UPTHERIVER.  39 

chimney  full  of  young  birds.  I  have  just  looked  at 
them  through  the  round  hole  in  which  the  stove-pipe 
goes.  They  are  very  pretty,  and  as  lively  as  young 
kittens,  picking  one  another's  feathers  and  scrambling 
over  each  other  with  much  twittering  and  noise. 
The  parent  swallows  come  doA\n  chimney  twenty 
times  a  day  to  give  them  food.  I  could  not  help 
contrasting  their  position  at  the  bottom  of  such  a 
dark  cell  with  the  gay  and  joyous  life  to  which  they 
are  destined  to  emerge,  feeding  like  the  chameleon 
on  blue  ether,  and  glancing  along  the  valleys  with 
the  rapidity  of  an  electric  flash.  What  gladness! 
what  vivacity  !  what  energy  of  the  principle  of  life  ! 
Sitting  on  the  porch,  when  my  own  brain  is  dull  and 
apoplectic,  and  no  pleasant  dreams  come  athwart  it, 
I  often  envy  the  sailing  swallows,  and  this  may  ac- 
count for  a  dream  of  flying  experienced  in  my  night- 
slumbers  at  least  fifty  times.  The  wings  are  indeed 
furnished  by  imagination,  but  with  a  glorious,  trium- 
phant motion  '  I  mount,  I  fly  :'  and  the  sensation, 
the  thought,  is  as  actual,  as  perfectly  realized,  as  if 
awake.  What  does  this  mean?  The  recurrence  of 
the  dream  so  often,  instigates  me  to  reflection,  and 
compels  me  to  think  that  it  has  signification.  It  tells 
me  that  the  birds  which  fly  so  fleetly  are  but  an  em- 
blem of  the  spirit's  exhilarating  speed  when  it  shall 


40  UP    THE    RIVE  R 

have  shuffled  off  this  mortal  coil ;  that  what  is  thus 
anticipated  shall  come  to  pass,  and  that  the  soul 
shall  fly  from  realms  to  realms  of  beauty,  for  ever 
and  for  ever.  How  cheering  and  consolatory  is  this 
lesson,  in  which  we  are  instructed  by  the  birds ! 

I  am  occasionally  annoyed  by  the  filthy,  nauseous, 
and  disgusting  bats.  One  of  these  got  in  the  room 
the  other  night,  and  was  very  agitated,  nervously 
dodging  and  seeking  the  door,  which,  like  the  en- 
trance of  a  cavern,  opened  on  the  abyss  of  night. 
First  I  attacked  him  with  a  broom-stick,  and  then 
knocked  him  down  with  a  cane,  because  I  was  afraid 
that  he  would  get  in  my  hair.  Also  I  am  annoyed 
by  the  little  owls  :  likewise  by  the  wasps.  Last 
summer  a  little  owl  roosted  on  a  pear-tree  before  my 
door,  and  ulalooed  in  a  manner  to  silence  the  very 
wolves.  I  could  not  stand  it,  and  took  the  trouble 
to  dress  myself  and  go  down  and  throw  a  stone  at 
him.  He  acknowledged  the  hint  without  waiting 
long  to  see  what  virtue  there  is  in  stones,  and  flitted 
off"  to  the  tree  under  my  neighbor's  window,  where 
he  quavered  away  all  night  with  his  deplorable  ulu- 
lations.  He  was  one  of  those  bullety  little  fellows 
who  make  a  clicking,  wooden  noise  with  their  bills, 
like  the  sound  of  Spanish  castanets,  and  whose  gray 
ears  stick  out  at  the  side   of  their  heads,   and  with 


UP    THE    IlIVER. 


41 


eyes  as  rotund  as  a  wild  grape.  I  heartily  wished 
that  he  was  in  Barnum's  Museum.  I  used  to  be 
amused  with  the  owl  who  is  perched  on  the  mantel- 
piece of  your  study.  I  thought  that  he  was  good 
for  an  emblem,  and  that  was  all  which  he  tvas  good 
for.  He  looked  as  grave  as  a  Doctor  of  Divinity,  or 
a  Professor  of  the  dead  languages.  And  how  very 
deep  and  unfathomable  appeared  his  thought — 'deep- 
er than  plummet  ever  sounded.'  Do  you  not  ask  him 
questions?  Do  you  not  go  to  him  for  advice?  De- 
pend on  it,  he  has  more  wisdom  than  he  knows 
what  to  do  with,  and  might  be  an  interpreter  of  hier- 
oglyphics. But  this  epistle  is  too  long.  Time  flies 
as  well  as  bats.  The  shades  of  evening  begin  to 
descend,  and,  as  Virgil  says  in  his  Eclogue,  the 
mountains  throw  a  lenffthened  shadow.     Good   eve- 


nms: 


August  15th. 

HE  drought  during 
the  present    season 
has  been  severe,  and 
has  joined  in  an   of- 
fensive league  with 
grass-hoppers     and 
potato-bugs  to   pro- 
f^^  duce    a    diminution 
of  the  crops.  When 
my  law-n  was  shaved 
a  month  or  two  ago, 
notwithstanding  the 
expensiveness     of 
hay,  I  reserved  a  single  stack, 
and  forbade  it  to   be   stored 
away,  because  I  had  not  a  sofa 
in  the  house.     There  I  found  it  agreeable  to  lie  every 
evening  for  a  half  hour  or  so  during  the  month  of  July, 
looking  up  at  the  stars,  listening  to  the  music  of  the 
spheres,  and  the  more  palpable  sound  of  a  feminine 


UP    THE    RIVER.  43 

voice,  crying,  'Get  up  this  instant! — come  into  the 
house!'  But  I  disregarded  the  feminine  voice,  and 
paid  attention  to  the  celestial  melody  This  is  the 
way  to  look  at  the  heavens  above  you,  O  my  friend  ! 
and  losing  sight  of  things  terrene,  to  hang  as  if  sus- 
pended in  the  middle  of  the  concave  vault,  as  though 
your  eye  were  central  among  the  orbs,  and  yourself 
were  at  the  Delphi  of  the  Universe.  How  much 
companionship  and  study  in  the  stars  I  Nor  can  I 
wonder  at  Tycho  Brache,  who  spent  so  many  years 
in  cold  and  solitary  spots  to  hold  communion  with 
them;  to  welcome  each  new  planet  born  to  human 
sight,  and  give  his  shining  protege  a  name;  to  fol- 
low in  the  burning  track  of  comets,  and  be  w'ith  the 
constellations  even  like 

'Bright  Phoebus,  shepherd  of  the  night, 
Tending  his  flock  of  stars.' 

Astrology  is  not  dead  yet,  and  horoscopes  are  not 
yet  banished.  Oh  !  how  untimely  and  discrepant  is 
the  tinkling  sound  which  calls  from  meditations  such 
as  these  to  come  and  drink  a  cup  of  tea.  A  couch 
like  this,  scented  with  clover  and  verbena,  with  the 
neavens  for  a  dome  and  the  night-dews  for  a  diadem, 
is  better  than  Victoria's  throne.  Yet  I  have  known 
the  same  to  be  despised  by  an  ungrateful  beggar, 
who  told  me  that  he  had  not  slept  a  wink  the  night 


44  U  P     T  H  E     R  I  V  E  R  . 

before  because  the  smell  of  the  new-mown  hay  was 
so  strong.  I  gave  that  beggar  a  bowl  of  ambrosial 
tea,  and  he  would  not  drink  it,  but  he  requested 
coffee.  I  threw  the  tea  aw^ay,  and  gave  him  coffee. 
He  blew  it  in  hot  waves  from  the  rim  with  his  pout- 
ing mouth,  shook  his  head,  and  then  worried  it  down 
to  the  extremest  dregs.  He  crooked  his  forefinger, 
and  told  the  girl  to  make  him  another  bowl.  She 
refused  to  do  it,  but  I  told  her  to  go  into  the  cellar 
and  set  the  mill  a-going;  that  may-be  he  was  an 
angel  come  upon  us  unawares,  although  he  looked 
like  an  angel  in  distress.  He  sw'allowed  the  con- 
tents of  the  second  bowl,  and  said,  'They  not  know 
how  to  make  coffee  in  this  countree;'  but  presently 
he  stroked  his  stomach  leniently,  and  remarked, 
*Now  I  feel  petter.'  Then  he  went  on  to  complain 
of  the  new-mown  hay.  But  the  new-mown  hay  is  a 
couch  for  a  king  to  lie  on,  although  my  little  stack, 
which  was  soft  and  ample  a  month  ago  has  melted 
down  to  a  mere  handful,  and  the  dews  of  the  night 
have  become  too  chilling. 

Corn-husking  is  a  merry  festival,  but  the  harvest- 
ing of  the  hay  arouses  all  the  sylvan  sympathies, 
and  puts  you  in  a  pleasant  mood.  There  is  a  rich 
broad  mead  before  my  door,  and  its  distant  edo-es 
undulate  in  shadowy  coves,  over  which  the  mountain 


UP    THE    RIVER.  45 

With  its  waving  woods  casts  a  deep  shadow.  Now 
it  is  shorn  as  neat  and  trim  as  the  beard  of  any  pop- 
injay. In  the  burning  noontide,  from  day  to  day,  I 
watched  the  measured  motion  of  the  reaper's  arms, 
the  heads  and  spears  of  the  clover  and  tali  grasses 
as  they  fell  in  regular  ranks  before  the  whetted 
scythes,  and  the  tossing  it  on  bright  tines,  and 
turning  it  to  be  cured  by  the  sun  and  air.  This  is 
clean  work,  suited  alike  for  patriarchs  or  boys,  and 
truly  to  be  envied  in  a  cloudy  day,  or  when  the  sun 
sinks  low.  Then  have  I  marked  the  transfer  of  the 
conic  heaps  into  the  arms  of  the  lofty  man  upon  the 
loaded  cart,  the  animated  dialogue  and  witty  re- 
joinders between  the  workers  on  the  ground  and  him 
in  air,  as  he  packs  down  the  fragrant  masses  beneath 
his  feet,  and  the  pleasant  pilgrimage  from  heap  to 
heap.  There  is  a  strength  and  grandeur  in  the 
patient  ox,  exciting  admiration  and  almost  love,  be- 
side a  well-considered  keeping  betwixt  himself  and 
equipage.  How^  do  his  great  utility  and  the  cum- 
brous bulky  masses  which  he  has  to  draw;  his  ele- 
phantine movement  and  clumsy  grace;  the  plain 
but  outspread  horns  surmounting  his  expansive  fore- 
head, and  his-  big,  liquid  eye,  accord  with  the  un- 
wieldy cart,  with  the  burdensome  yoke  which  bows 
his  ihick  neck  and  spinal  column  to  the  ground,  and 


46  UP    THE     RIVER. 

with  the  lona:  groad  which  draws  forth  a  hollow 
sound  as  it  is  brought  down  with  remorseless  vio- 
lence upon  the  frontal  bones!  And  then  the  voca- 
bulary, which  he  understands  so  well,  composed  of 
a  few  roots  of  Hebraic  simplicity: — 'Haw!  Buck! 
Gee  haw  !  Come  around  !  I  tell  yer  to  haw  now  !' 
The  author  of  the  'Babylonish  Ditty,'  a  cunning 
and  melodious  set  of  versicles,  came  here  to  spend  a 
Sunday  in  the  country.  He  is  a  man  of  business, 
but  he  does  not  talk  of  stocks  over  his  meals,  nor 
sleep  with  a  ledger  under  his  pillow;  but  he  inter- 
mingles the  counting-house  and  the  Academy,  and 
gathers  time  to  pick  a  flower  by  the  wayside,  to 
play  a  tune  on  the  guitar,  or  to  throw  off  with  facile 
hand  at  just  and  dexterous  intervals  some  little 
balmy  poem  such  as  the  occasion  may  require.  It 
was  three  by  St.  Paul's  clock  when  we  started  off 
together,  attended  to  the  depot  by  a  witty  body- 
guard, and  passing  through  the  reeking  streets  over 
as  many  husks  of  corn  as  would  have  fed  a  thou- 
sand prodigals,  and  cobs  enough  to  have  treated  all 
the  pigs  of  Cincinnati,  radishes  for  which  there  was 
no  market,  and  the  exfoliations  of  wilted  cabbages, 
the  whole  leaguing  together  in  a  grand  compound 
smell  which  would  have  made  the  town  of  Cologne 
jealous,  w^e  emerged  presently,  with  a  great  roaring. 


UP    THE    RIVER.  47 

rattling  sound,  to  an  expansive  view  of  the  Hudson 
river.  When  I  lived  in  the  town  there  were,  as 
Coleridge  has  it,  so  many  'well-defined'  odours  in 
my  neighbourhood,  that  I  gave  each  of  them  a  name 
in  honour  of  the  Common  Council.  That  which  pro- 
ceeded from  where  the  old  he-goat  used  to  sit  on  the 
steps  in  Greenwich-Avenue,  I  used  to  call  Odoriffe ; 
and  that  where  the  pig-pens  and  distilleries  joined 
in  a  powerful  compact  I  christened  'Big  Tom,'  and 
so  on  with  the  rest ;  and  every  morning  I  used  to  be 
regularly  saluted  by  them  all.  In  the  month  of 
August  they  acted  on  the  offensive,  and  drove  me 
out  of  town,  where  now  and  then  you  might  still  en- 
counter a  wafted  and  struggling  essence  come  out 
on  a  visit  to  'Bone-boiling  Terrace,'  to  form  a  matri- 
monial alliance  with  Quintessence,  But  oh!  how 
pleasant,  after  the  company  of  Odoriffe,  Big  Tom, 
and  all  that  troop,  the  amicable  jostling  of  daffodil 
and  lily,  eglantine  and  wild  roses,  sweet  clover,  and 
new-mown  hay  !  When  from  the  cemetery  of  un- 
buried  cats,  mephitic  deleterious  gases,  and  miasms 
of  the  gutter,  you  come  upon  rivulets  of  fresh  air, 
the  perfumed  streaks  which  intersect  the  aerial 
flood,  the  light  zephyrs  which  have  cooled  their 
wings  in  the  broad  waters  of  the  Hudson,  and  the 
delicious  jets  out-gushing  from  the  caves  of  classic 


48  UPTHERIYER. 

Kaatskill,  the  contracted  lungs  swell  out  with  greedy 
suction,  and  in  the  first  prickling  sensation  of  the 
invigorating  draught,  you  sneeze  tremendously  with 
delight.  How  does  the  thickened  blood  roll  back  in 
ruddier  globules  from  the  heart  upon  the  sallow 
cheek,  with  an  erubescence  like  that  of  a  timid 
maid,  when  the  aromatic  breeezes  are  borne  from 
recesses  on  the  river's  brink,  from  the  wild  spots, 
sweet  hollows,  coves,  and  knolls,  which  bloom  at 
every  season,  with  the  violet,  the  butter-cup,  the  liver- 
wort, the  azalia,  the  blue  gentian,  and  the  rose 
— enough  to  make  a  botanist  hold  up  his  hands  with 
glee: 

'  I  KNOW  a  bank  whereon  the  wild  thyme  grows, 
Where  cowslip  and  the  nodding  violet  blows.' 

But  I  shall  be  getting  into  the  realm  of  thin  senti- 
ment among  the  Ciiloes,  Phillises,  Damons,  and 
pastoral  personages,  and  Della-Cruscan  shades. 

When  arrived  at  nightfall  at  my  own  door,  I  called 
to  Flora,  with  a  most  mitigating  suavity  of  the 
liquids  and  vowel  sounds:  *Fel— O— o— o— er_ah  ! 
has  any  one  called  here  since  I  have  been  gone? 
Are  there  any  letters  or  papers?  Are  the  chickens 
well?'  A— yes,  Sir;  the  hen  has  left  her  chickens 
and  gone  to  setting!'     'Good!  good!  let  her  not  be 


UP    THE    III  VEIL  49 

disturbed.  Is  there  any  cream  in  the  house?'  'A— 
no,  Sir.'  'Are  there  any  eggs?'  'A— no,  Sir.' 
Is  there  any  ham?'  'A— no,  Sir.'  'Are  there  any 
radishes  in  the  garden?'  'A— no.  Sir.'  'Are  there 
any  tomatoes?'  'A— no,  Sir.'  'Is  there  any  bread?' 
'A— no,  Sir.'  'Then  go  over  to  the  neighbours  and 
get  them,  and  put  the  kettle  on,  and  let's  have  tea.' 
In  a  short  time  the  desired  meal  was  accomplished, 
and  the  Babylonian  put  his  little  boy  to  bed,  for  he 
was  drowsy  in  the  extreme.  The  Sabbath  dawned, 
and  it  was  like  all  the  Sundays  ever  described 
in  print,  'so  cool,  so  calm,  so  bright,  the  bridal  of 
the  earth  and  sky.'  The  little  stream  which  rolls  at 
the  mountain's  base  before  the  door,  was  roughen- 
ed by  a  susurring  breeze  into  crisp  waves  sparkling 
in  the  brightness  of  the  sun.  The  sound  of  the 
church-going  bell  was  heard  afar  off.  The  author 
of  the  '  Babylonish  Ditty'  came  down  attired  in  a 
pair  of  cool,  well-ironed  breeches,  white  stockings, 
and  patent  leather  shoes,  and  his  little  boy  in  a  ditto 
style,  with  elegant  ruffles  on  his  shirt,  and  with  a 
variegated  ribbon  around  his  throat.  My  friend  has 
his  place  of  business  in  the  city,  not  far  from  where 
the  naughty  Wall-street  debouches  with  its  tide  of 
worldliness  against  the  buttresses  of  Trinity  Church, 
and  then  falls  back  to  niin":le  with  the  current  in 


50  UP    THE    KIVER. 

the  Broadway,  and  he  said  it  was  very  grateful  to 
him  to  have  his  religious  sensibilities  excited  among 
the  sequestered  scenes  of  nature  on  a  Sunday. 
Then,  as  he  walked  along,  with  a  sharp  pen-knife 
cutting  a  scimetar  out  of  a  shingle  for  his  little  boy, 
he  remarked  on  the  vanity  of  town-worshippers ;  of 
the  crowd  of  orjlded  carriages  before  churches  whose 
inmates  were  listening  to  some  'crack  preacher;' 
of  the  number  of  young  men  who  stood  sucking  their 
cane  in  the  porticoes,  and  staring  at  ladies;  of  the 
well-dressed  and  fat  dinners  afterward  partaken,  and 
lethargic  slumbers  indulged.  'How  many  worship 
God,'  said  he,  'in  sincerity  and  truth,  of  all  the  mul- 
titudes who  keep  holy-day?'  When  he  had  done 
cutting  his  townsmen  and  the  shingle,  we  drew  near 
the  antique  church.  It  is  in  a  thick  grove  of  locusts, 
and  built  long  before  the  Revolution,  and  its  interior 
arrangements  are  extremely  quaint,  especially  the 
pulpit,  where  the  very  worthy  minister  holds  forth. 
The  service  always  held  in  it  is  after  the  model 
of  the  Church  of  England.  C —  asked  with  some 
apprehension  if  a  long  sermon  might  be  expected; 
but  on  the  present  occasion  it  happened  that  there 
was  no  sermon  at  all.  They  had  been  pulling  down 
the  worm-eaten  tower,  and  the  people  were 
dispersing  to  their  homes  as  we  arrived.    The  excuse 


UPTHERIVER  51 

alleged  was,  that  the  strong  smell  of  the  bats  made 
the  ladies  sick.  Some  had  ah-eady  adjourned  to  the 
neighbouring  Dutch  church,  where  Harvey  Birch,  a 
character  who  figures  largely  in  Cooper's  novel, '  The 
Spy,'  was  formerly  confined.  We  found  the  whole 
porch  covered  with  rubbish,  consisting  of  old  nails, 
decayed  shingles,  rafters  gnawed  to  a  thin  and  rag- 
ged edge  like  crusts  of  bread,  the  mummies  of  de- 
ceased bats,  their  thin  vampire,  black-ribbed  wings, 
so  different  from  the  rich  and  sun-lit  plumage  of 
cherubs,  sticking  to  the  old  boards. 

Into  what  deeper,  blacker  Erebus  can  bat-spirits 
go  than  the  moonless  nights  into  which  they  delight 
to  flit  with  jerking  rapidity!  From  the  eaves  and 
accidental  loop-holes  of  this  antique,  sacred  tower, 
which  they  had  profaned  for  a  hundred  years,  these 
obscene  birds  were  now  turned  out  in  one  filthy 
flock  into  the  open  day.  Many  of  them  went  right 
smack  into  the  golden  sun,  and  fell  stone  dead  on 
the  graves  of  revolutionary  and  holy  men.  Others 
clutched  the  branches  of  old  trees  in  the  thickest 
gloom  of  the  mountain  woods,  and  when  night  drew 
on  swarmed  about  the  neigbouring  garrets,  to  the 
great  dismay  of  long-haired  women,  diving  into  the 
windows  of  unlit  chambers,  or  any  blacker  cavern 
than  the  surrounding  night.     The  unfledged  batlings 


52  U  P     T  11  E     R  I  V  E  R  . 

tumbled  down  at  the  base  into  the  midst  of  timbers 
and  ancient  rubbish,  and  now  there  was  a  cry  of 
alarm,  an  exclamation  of  surprise  among  the  small 
conclave  who  remained  about  the  church,  as  if  some 
wonder  had  been  brought  to  light.  The  wardens 
and  vestrymen  who  were  holding  a  council  in  the 
middle  of  the  road,  as  they  looked  up  through  the 
trees  to  the  place  where  the  lamented  tower  had 
stood,  with  some  respect  to  plans  of  rebuilding, 
and  whether  they  should  call  in  the  aid  of  Upjohn, 
and  what  kind  of  cornice  would  afford  the  most  re- 
lief in  this  architectural  distress,  w^hen,  lo !  it  was 
proclaimed  that  they  were  overrun  with — chintzes, 
shall  I  say?  no — with  bed-bugs!  harbored  among 
the  penurious  feathers  of  the  birds  of  night. 
This  obloquy  also  attaches  to  the  cooing  pigeons 
and  to  the  dear  doves.  But  a  council  of  investiffa- 
tion,  on  putting  their  heads  down  closely  to  the  de- 
cayed beams,  decided  that  the  bugs  by  which  they 
were  over-crawled  were  of  a  different  kind.  The 
fair  sex  however,  would  not  rely  on  the  opinion  of 
the  committee,  and  the  kindling  wood  cannot  be 
sold.  They  did  not  care  what  the  warden  said,  or 
what  the  vestrymen  thought:  they  Avould  not  admit 
the  condemned  timbers  into  their  houses  or  at  their 
hearths.     Moreover,  many  have  not  been  to  church 


UP    THE    KIVER.  53 

Since.  This  is  a  valid  excuse,  and  much  better  than 
that  usually  advanced  by  those  who  do  not  go  to 
church  on  Sunday.  For  it  must  be  confessed  that 
the  reigning  piety  of  the  day  is  of  a  very  slim  de- 
scription. It  is  liable  to  colds,  and  is  afTected  by 
catarrhs,  is  scared  by  a  passing  cloud,  and  invariably 
kept  in-doors  by  a  shower,  but  hastens  thin-clad  to 
a  ball  on  Monday  night,  'in  thunder,  lightning,  or  in 
rain.'  But  no  one  could  wish  his  host  friend  to  at- 
tend a  church  if  he  were  sure  thathe  was  going  to  the 
bugs. 

The  fate  of  the  old  tower  is  much  lamented.  It 
was  a  picturesque  object  seen  through  the  trees  as 
you  came  down  the  hills  into  the  suburbs.  The 
landscape  which  it  set  off'  misses  it  very  much,  and 
the  very  eaves  of  the  church  which  it  has  overlooked 
and  overshadowed  so  long,  drip  sympathizing  tears. 
Once  it  had  a  sightly  steeple  and  a  musically-sound- 
ing bell.  But  the  steeple  had  an  inclination  that 
the  centre  of  gravity  should  not  fall  within  the  base, 
which  sealed  its  doom,  and  the  bell  was  transferred 
to  the  near  church  of  St.  Harvey  Birch,  wherein 
the  Dutch  worship;  and  last  of  all,  the  tower  came 
down,  which  was  the  crowning  glory  of  the  whole. 
Now  the  edifice  presents  a  Quaker-plainness,  but 
the  quaint  pulpit  and  sounding-board  remain. 


54  u  r    1  II  E    II I  Y  E  R . 

The  Babylonian  was  much  grieved  and  disap- 
pointed at  the  loss  of  prayers  and  a  sermon,  and  his 
little  boy  brandished  his  wooden  sword  in  vindictive 
ansrer  affainst  the  bats.  In  the  afternoon,  numbers 
of  people  came  from  a  distance  in  carriages,  but  find- 
ing the  place  vacant,  the  tower  prostrate,  and  the 
bat-odor  enough  to  knock  you  down,  they  drew  up 
in  a  sort  of  general  levee  before  the  parson's  door. 
They  wanted  to  know  what  was  to  be  done  in  the 
emergency,  how  long  the  church  was  to  remain 
closed,  and  whether  the  tower  was  to  be  rebuilt. 

Thus  was  the  sacred  stillness  of  the  day,  so  good 
for  meditation,  turned  into  buzz  and  bustle  by  pro- 
fane birds,  to  admire  which  a  naturalist  must  have 
the  heart  of  a  ghoul.  When  pinned  to  the  surface 
of  a  board  by  their  extended  wings,  they  afford  the 
most  violent  contrast  which  can  be  imagined  to  a 
butterfly  or  bird  of  paradise  Their  flat  heads,  big 
mouths,  big  ears,  ugly  little  sharp  teeth,  hideous  ex- 
pression, and  offensive  smell,  fairly  make  one  sicken 
with  disgust.  How  angry  they  must  have  been  to 
be  turned  out  of  the  tower  of  which  they  held  the 
lease  for  a  hundred  years,  and  paid  the  rent  in  gu 
ano  !  When  the  workmen  began  to  hammer  against 
their  hiding-places,  they  responded  by  the  faintest  pe 
wee   mewings,  like   a  nursery  of  Lilliputian   cats 


U  P     T  HE     K  I  \'  E  R  . 


55 


Well,  they  are  gone,  and  where  they  will  again  find 
such  good  quarters,  I  know  not.  Let  them  inquire 
of  some  very  wise  owl.     Rents  are  high. 

I  meant  to  have  said  something  about  a  Sunday 
in  the  country,  but  all  this  has  been  long  ago  charm- 
ingly sketched  in  Crayon,  and  exhausted  by  a 
more  practised  hand.  Suffice  it,  when  the  sun  sank 
down,  calm  and  contemplative  we  sat  in  chairs  upon 
the  river's  bank.  Heat-lightning  flashed  in  the  bat- 
tlemented  clouds,  while  vapours  imbued  by  the  risen 
moon  rested  in  fantastic  forms  upon  the  mountain's 
crest  :  the  waves  sparkled  and  flashed,  and  the 
snowy  sails  glided  by  like  shadows  from  the  spirit- 
land. 

Twenty-fourth  of  August. — To-day,  atabeauti- 
fulseaton  the  Hudson,  I  saw  a  cherry-tree  in  full  bear- 
ing. The  fruit  was  as  large  as  the  Morello,  and  as 
agreeable  to  the  palate  as  the  English  ox-heart.  I 
plucked  and  ate  a  few,  drawing  a  comparison  very 
unfavorable  to  pbmis,  which  are  now  luscious  and 
abundant,  and  vary  in  size  fruui  a  pigeon's  egg  to  a 
pear.  Of  peaches  we  mourn  the  almost  total  loss. 
The  fruitless  limbs  bring  back  the  memory  of  many 
an  eager  and  a  nipping  air  in  the  bleak  months  which 
killed  the  buds.  The  watering  mouths  now  long  for 
the  red  cheeks  and  somewhat  (to  me)indifl'erent  pulp 


56  UP     THE     RIVER. 

of  the  Melicatoon.  Where  are  Eldorado,  Lemon- 
Cling,  and  Lump-of-Gold,  which  whilom  made  the 
eyes  to  dance  with  joy  ?  Oh  !  how  precious  was  the 
fruitage  !  how  inestimable  the  treasure  on  the  bend- 
ing, breaking,  limbs  !  Nevertheless,  of  melons, 
musk  or  water,  there  is  no  lack.  How  does  the  one, 
like  pme-apple,  almost  excoriate  the  palate  ;  and 
how  does  the  blood-red  pulp  of  the  other,  so  beauti- 
fully variegated  with  its  black  and  chocolate-colored 
seeds,  (cut  it  how  you  will,)  awaken  anticipation  for 
the  parched  and  feverish  tongue  !  It  is  a  gushing 
fruit,  and  when  the  cooling  chunks  are  in  the  mouth, 
the  mercury  which  is  in  the  veins  goes  down  to  tem- 
perate heat.  You  do  but  press  it  gently  beneath  the 
palate,  and  that  apparently  solid  substance  which 
painters  love  to  imitate  has  all  vanished.  It  was 
but  a  mass  of  succulent  and  delicate  veins  and  fibres 
filled  with  juice.  This  they  say  will  be  a  good  'ap- 
ple year,'  and  truly  I  am  glad  of  it,  for  there  is  no 
fruit  of  which  the  loss  is  more  severely  felt.  The 
taste  never  tires.  All  people  are  fond  of  a  good 
apple.  It  is  an  interesting  fruit  from  the  very 
start.  How  enchanting  is  the  orchard  in  the  de- 
licious season  of  early  spring,  when  it  is  in  full 
bloom !  How  pleasant  at  a  later  period  to  see 
the  clean  barrels  stand  beneath  the  trees  ready  to 
receive   the  crisp  and  crackling  Newtown    Pippin, 


UPTHEIUVER.  57 

and  Rhode-Island  Greening,  verdant  as  the  grass, 
the  Russet,  the  Pearmain,  the  Lady  apple,  which 
is  so  dear,  and  whose  modest  cheeks  blush  as  if 
at  the  frequent  praises  of  its  delicacy  and  excel- 
lence. The  apple  is  the  companion  of  the  win- 
ter evening,  associated  with  a  cheerful  room,  a 
bright  fire,  a  pleasant  tale,  Scott's  novels  or  Ara- 
bian Nights.  Perhaps  it  is  nearly  bed-time.  Your 
eyes  grow  dim.  You  are  fatigued  with  study, 
with  chess,  with  checkers,  with  books ;  you  sigh, 
you  yawn,  you  stretch  your  arms  above  your  head. 
All  of  a  sudden  a  happy  thought  strikes  you.  Bring 
\N  THK  APPLES  !  It  is  like  magic.  The  foot-lights 
go  up,  and  the  scene  brightens. 

I  mean  to  have  some  crab-apple  cider  this  win- 
ter, if  any  can  be  had.  I  am  subject  to  occa- 
sional fits  of  jaundice,  when  my  feelings  are  hurt, 
or  I  have  no  money.  The  liver  gets  torpid,  the 
skin  becomes  yellow,  the  eyes  suffused  with  a  saf- 
fron hue,  {Difficili  bile  tmnet  jecur,)  and  nothing  but 
crab-apple  cider  goes  to  the  right  spot,  or  does  me 
any  good.  I  mean  to  freeze  out  the  watery  parti- 
cles, bottle  it  up,  put  in  a  raisin,  cork  it,  seal  it, 
bury  it,  and  draw  it  out  as  jaundice  may  require. 
Is  there  any  harm  in  that?  I  should  think  not.  I 
will  say  to  a  friend  :  '  Aha  !  now  let  me  give  you  a 
taste  of  something  which  will  make  your  eyes  open  ; 


58  TI  P     T  II  E     R  I  V  E  R  . 

— something  as  delicate  as  Ariel,  and  as  fruity  as 
was  ever  imprisoned  in  glassy  walls  ; — a  pure  juice, 
full  of  native  flavor  ; — and  if  you  do  not  smack  your 
lips,  you  are  the  incarnation  of  ingratitude.' 


•  Oh  for  a  vintage  which  hath  been 
Cooled  for  a  long  age  in  the  deep-delved  earth  !' 


There  is  amber  for  you  !  See  the  bubbles  run- 
ning races  with  each  other  to  the  beaded  brim  !  — 
This  is  no  sour  trash,  sugar-of-leaded,  and  pumped 
full  of  gases  in  a  New  Jersey  cellar  and  labelled 
'Heidseek.' — This  is  Crab- Apple  •  Cider,  O  my 
friend  ! — Then  he  will  taste  it,  while  the  widening 
ripples  of  approbation  chase  one  another  over  his  ap- 
preciating countenance,  and  you  can  see  that  he  is 
much  refreshed  and  recreated,  and  he  will  perhaps 
nod  his  head  ominously,  saying,  '  If  that  be  not  good, 
call  me  horse,  spit  on  me.'  All  hospitality  is  flat 
and  ungenerous  ;  food,  my  friend,  without  some  out- 
ward sign  to  represent  the  grace  of  welcome.  The 
sign  too  must  have  a  little  of  the  warmth  and  spice 
of  friendship  testified.  Mark  that,  for  it  accords 
with  the  established  laws  of  genial,  human  nature. 
It  is  as  old  as  Adam  and  Eve's  eldest  children. 
When  your  neighbours  come  to  see  you,  they  do  not 


UP    THE    RIVER.  59 

come  to  eat  and  drink  mainly,  but  recollect,  that 
the  elements  you  offer,  although  they  are  just  touch- 
ed to  the  lips,  are  the  outward  emblems  of  kindness 
and  hospitality  ; — do  not  therefore  according  to  the 
marvellous  philosophy  of  the  present  day,  be  dis- 
posed to  discard  these  emblems  as  of  no  value. — 
If  the  old  side-board  is  abolished,  have  a  care  that 
good  feeling  and  charity  and  kindness  do  not  decay. 
You  must  have  some  regard  for  the  composite  nature 
of  man,  and  not  think  that  you  are  wise  and  that 
the  old  custom  is  a  fool ; — for  after  all,  old  and 
civilized  custom  is  in  accordance  with  the  laws  of 
our  being,  and  social  state.  From  such  reasoning 
as  the  above,  more  than  for  my  own  yellowness  or 
jaundice,  I  will  be  provided  with  crab-apple  cider 
in  the  fall.  The  crab  is  somewhat  acid,  but  when 
expressed,  the  fluid  is  brisk,  sparkling  and  refresh- 
ing. There  is  an  apple-tree  of  an  unknown  kind  be- 
hind my  house,  and  ever  and  anon  the  apples  fall 
with  considerable  violence  and  wath  a  thumping 
sound  upon  the  roof,  roll  down  upon  the  piazza 
and  thence  to  the  ground.  The  other  night  they 
startled  me  in  my  bed,  and  I  thought  that  the  knock- 
ing spirits  were  on  hand.  I  came  down  stairs  to 
see    that    all    was     right,    and   being    loth    to    re- 


60 


UP    THE    RIVER. 


turn  again,  sat  down,  seized  a  pen,  spread  out 
paper,  and  to  this  circumstance,  the  present 
long-winded,  I  fear  uninteresting  epistle  is  partly 
due. 


October,  1852. 

HEN  my  Shanghai  began 
to  lay  eggs,  I  preserved 
them  scrupulously  as  those 
of  no  common  fowl,  and 
placed  them  in  a  shallow 
earthen  vessel  to  be  ready 
for  incubation.  She  sat 
upon  fifteen,  all  moderate- 
ly-size^,  of  a  mulatto  col- 
our, and  I  expected  fifteen 
chickens  in  the  process  of 
time.  Great  was  my  im- 
patience, as  the  three 
weeks  were  nearly  fulfill- 
ed, and  I  watched  her  upon  the  nest  from  day  to 
day,  most  meekly  and  quietly  brooding.     One  day, 


62  UP    THE    RIVER. 

1  gently  lifted  her,  as  she  protested  with  subdued 
clucking,  and  counted  only  fourteen  eggs.  How  was 
this?  'Fel— o— ER— AH !  how  many  eggs  did  we 
place  in  this  nest.' — 'A— fifteen,  sir.' — 'Here  are  only 
fourteen:  what  has  become  of  the  other?' — 'I  do'- 
know,  Sir.' — That  was  very  strange,  for  who  would 
rob  a  hen's  nest  when  she  was  in  the  act  of  setting? 
In  a  few  days  after  only  thirteen  remained,  on  which 
I  suspected  that  some  sly  rat  had  watched  his  chance, 
and  indulged  his  sucking  propensity.  But  it  pre- 
sently appeared  that  this  unnatural  Shanghai  picked 
them  to  pieces,  and  ate  them.  One  morning,  in 
consequence,  she  got  desperately  sick,  and  wandered 
into  the  thick  weeds  of  the  garden,  poking  her  head 
among  the  currant-bushes  and  burdocks,  where  she 
remained  for  some  hours  until  every  egg  became 
cold.  The  carpenters  who  were  making  the  fence 
told  me  to  take  her  by  the  legs  and  hold  her  head 
downward.  I  dic^so,  stroking  the  feathers  of  her 
neck,  when  the  egg  leaked  out  of  her  throat.  She 
was  immediately  well,  and  resumed  sitting.  It 
could  not  be  expected,  however,  after  such  a  misfor- 
tune, that  any  chickens  should  be  produced. 

One  day  after  breakfast,  Flora  came  in  with 
great  eagerness,  as  I  was  sipping  my  second  cup  of 
Mocha,  and  said  that  the  hen  had  a  chicken.     Sure 


UPTHERIVER.  63 

enough,  on  going  beneath  the  shed,  1  could  hear  its 
smothered  chirp;  and  on  raising  the  mother  up, 
beheld  the  chick,  as  yet  a  little  embarrassed  by  the 
shell,  but  quite  large  and  lively,  with  yellow  legs 
slightly  feathered,  and  all  the  characteristics  of  the 
Shanghai  breed.  I  went  to  my  study  to  fold  a  few 
letters,  and  on  returning  still  heard  the  cry.  Made 
a  pilgrimage  to  the  garden,  to  get  a  cauliflower  for 
dinner.  When  I  came  back,  the  voice  of  the  chicken 
was  no  longer  heard.  Lifted  up  the  hen,  and  found 
the  little  thing  stone  dead:  took  it  up,  examined  it 
for  a  minute,  and  threw  it  on  the  straw.     Pshaw! 

When  the  next  chicken  was  hatched,  I  went  out  to 
take  it  away  to  put  it  in  a  basket  in  the  kitchen  fire- 
place, and  feed  it  'out  of  hand,'  and  learned  to  my 
surprise  that  Shanghai  had  eaten  it  up  !  That  the 
savage  and  irascible  sow  will  devour  squeaklings  is  a 
fact  well  known.  That  the  hen,  that  very  figure 
and  illustration  of  maternal  tenderness,  is  sometimes 
guilty  of  the  same  act,  never  before  came  to  my 
knowledge.  Out  of  fifteen  eggs  my  Shanhai  has 
only  two  chickens,  who  go  tottling  about,  stumbling 
and  bungling  over  the  little  hillocks:  a  small  brood, 
and  I  am  afraid  that  these  will  fall  victims  to  casu- 
alty or  a  sly  rat.  It  is  very  hard  to  be  guarded  with 
any  certainty  against  a  sly  rat.     He  has  a  poking 


64  U  P     T  H  E     R  I  Y  E  11 . 

nose,  a  peeking  eye,  a  ransacking  smell,  an  inaudi- 
ble foot-fall;  and,  added  to  all,  a  consummate  un- 
principled judgment.  Before  you  know  it,  he  has 
sucked  vour  eggs,  gnawed  your  hams,  or  emptied 
your  oil-betty.  Good  rat-catchers  are  much  wanted 
throuffhout  Christendom. 


Monday. — As  I  walked  from  the  post-office,  on 
the  borders  of  the  stubble-fields,  and  read  papers  by 
the  way,  an  incident  befel — not  that  I  walked  off  a 
bridge,  or  saw  my  name  in  print  ;  but  happening  to 
lift  my  eyes  from  the  page  and  look  up  in  the  sun, 
I  sneezed  as  if  I  had  taken  a  pinch  of  rose-scented 
snuff.  I  know  not  how  it  is,  but  as  I  grow  older  I 
sneeze  with  redoubled  violence,  sometimes  as  if  it 
would  really  tear  me  to  pieces.  Some  people  can- 
not make  a  noise  in  any  other  way  ;  and  one  old 
gentleman  of  my  acquaintance  has  a  fit  of  this  kind 
every  Sunday  morning  in  church,  the  whole  fit  in- 
cluding seven  successive  sneezes  of  the  most  violent 
kind.  But  this  is  not  the  incident.  Scarcely  had  I 
sneezed,  when  a  peal  of  puerile  laughter  broke  upon 
my  ear  ;  and  turning  round,  I  beheld  a  small  boy 
with  blue  eyes,  having  a  little  bundle  and  a  Maltese 
kitten    in    his    arms.     '  Oh,'    said    he,    '  when    you 


UP    THE    RIVER.  65 

sneezed,  those  pigs  in  tlie  field  ran  as  fast  as  they 
could  go  !' 

The  boy  had  such  a  happy  face,  was  in  such  a 
chuckling  mood,  so  free  from  care  and  so  disposed 
to  talk,  that  I  folded  up  the  mammoth  sheets,  so 
full  of  sarcasm  and  rebuke,  to  be  edified  as  with  the 
bright  pictures  of  a  primer  or  little  book.  Before 
advancing  the  length  of  a  corn-field,  he  opened 
his  budget — not  the  little  bundle  in  which  his 
worldly^  goods  were  enclosed  within  a  cotton  ker- 
chief, but  the  budget  of  his  history — and  told  me  all 
things  that  ever  he  did  :  what  was  his  name  ;  that 
his  parents  were  dead  ;  that  he  was  born  in  Hamp- 
shire ;  that  he  was  twelve  years  old  ;  that  he  could 
read  ;  that  he  had  been  to  Sunday  school  ;  that  he 
was  now  out  of  place  ;  and  that  he  was  on  a  jour- 
ney. 

'How  far  are  you  going,  my  little  man?' 

'  To  Rochester,  Sir.' 

'  That  is  a  great  way  for  you  to  travel.  How 
much  money  have  you  got  V 

'  I've  got  a  shilling,'  said  he,  laughing  with  great 
glee;  '  I'm  going  to  keep  that  till  to-morrow,  to  buy 
my  dinner  with.' 

'  Yes  ;  but  when  you  travel  on  the  rail-road  you 
must  pay  a  dollar  or  two.      What  will  you  do  ?' 


156  UPTHERIVEB. 

'  0,  I'll  tell  them  that  1  want  lo  go,  and  they'll 
let  me.' 

It  was  in  vain  that  I  could  impress  upon  his  ap- 
prehension that  he  was  venturing  far  upon  a  little 
capital  ;  for  he  soon  burst  into  another  fit  of  gay 
Iiughter,  as  he  held  up  the  kitten  and  changed  the 
theme. 

*  What  are  you  going  to  do  with  the  kitten  V 
said  I. 

'  Oh,  I  do  as  every  body  tells  me  :  my  mistress 
told  me  to  take  her  a  mile  and  let  her  go.' 

Having  now  arrived  at  my  own  gate,  I  told  him  to 
let  the  Maltese  loose,  and  she  ran  mewing  along  the 
garden-fence.  When  I  caught  her,  and  brought  her 
into  the  kitchen,  I  found  that  she  was  blind.  '  The 
world  is  generous,'  thought  I,  '  to  send  a  little  boy 
on  foot  three  hundred  miles  with  a  shilling  in  his 
pocket,  and  make  him  drop  a  blind  kitten  bv  the 
way.' 

Sunday  Morning. — When  the  sun  rose  this  morn- 
ing, a  white  smoke,  like  that  which  uprises  from  the 
crucible  of  the  alchemist,  covered  the  whole  earth  ; 
and  as  Homeros  expresses  it,  you  could  see  about 
as  far  as  a  stone's  cast,  supposing  that  the  stone  were 
not  thrown  from  a  slinff.    When  to  the  tintinnabula 


UP    THE    mVER.  67 

tion  of  the  breakfast-bell,  inviting  to  appease  a  gen- 
tle appetite,  (how  different  from  the  stunning  gong 
which  calls  whole  gangs  to  'raven  like  a  wolf!') 
when,  as  the  volatile  spirit  of  coffee  came  through 
the  key-hole  and  brooded  over  the  pillow,  from  which 
I  awoke  refreshed,  I  passed  down  the  broad  and 
polished  oaken  stair-case  which  adorns  my  friend's 
house  on  the  banks  of  the  Hudson,  and  stepped  upon 
the  piazza,  all  was  a  blank.  Of  the  infinite  beau- 
ties of  Nature,  which  seemed  to  have  taken  the 
white  veil,  not  one  was  visible,  save  a  few  blue 
morning-glories  on  the  porch,  on  the  hither  edge  of 
this  vapory  sea.  Blue  is  a  hopeful  color,  not  pro- 
perly the  badge  of  dejection,  nor  to  be  worn  in  the 
button-hole  of  a  jaundiced  man.  While  the  winter 
lingers.  Blue-bird  first  carols  on  the  unbudding 
bough  ;  while  the  snow  yet  remains  in  patches,  Vio- 
let ventures  to  peep  out  on  the  cheerless  scene  ; 
while  the  clouds  hesitate  to  depart  the  blue  sky  gives 
a  little  hope  ;  blue  eyes  beam  on  you  with  the  great- 
est tenderness  ;  and  so  I  thought  when  Morning- 
glory  first  greeted  me  on  the  dewy  porch.  Methinks 
that  morning-glory  has  not  received  its  meed  of  jus- 
tice, O  my  friend  !  It  is  not  enough  bepainted  in 
pictures,  or  celebrated  in  song  :  it  is  too  often  put 
off  with  a   mere   bean-pole   for  support,  or  with  an 


68  UP    THE     RIVER. 

ungainly  stick  ;  discarded  from  porch,  arbour,  tiellis, 
bower,  net-work,  floral  temple,  aerial  garden-arch 
and  architecture  ;  given  up  to  the  tender  mercy  and 
support  of  coarser  plants  ;  yet  it  affords  the  best 
moral  lesson  among  the  flowers,  for  it  shuts  up  early, 
without  even  a  taste  of  mountain-dew,  and  you  have 
never  seen  it  blue  at  night. 

At  the  hour  of  ten  my  friend's  carriage  was  at  the 
door ;  a  plain  oblong  box,  without  top,  fit  for  the 
country  ;  painted  of  a  subdued  claret  color,  mounted 
upon  springs,  in  which  his  plump  and  rosy  children 
climbed,  gleefully  delighted  to  ride  to  church  ;  and 
as  we  took  our  seats,  just  then  the  powerful  sun 
controlled  the  day;  while  in  many  a  graceful  fold- 
ing, looping  and  festooning,  the  misty  curtain  rose 
upon  the  enchanting  scene.  There  in  the  fore- 
ground, at  the  base  of  that  clean  slope,  grassy  law-n, 
Hudson,  river  of  rivers,  rolled  ;  and  as  I  stood  on 
the  piazza,  with  prayer-book  in  my  hand,  I  noticed 
that,  with  respect  to  its  width,  it  was,  like  '  All  of 
Gaul,'  divided  into  three  parts.  First,  near  the 
shore  a  great  extended  mirror,  smooth,  glassy  ;  then 
a  roughened  channel ;  and  opposite,  beneath  the  im- 
pending, wood-crowned  banks,  a  Stygian  stream, 
full  of  shadows.  It  was  Indian  summer,  (short-lived 
season  !)  belted  betwixt  sweltering  heats  and  arctic 


UPTHERIVER.  69 

ice  and  every  hour  of  its  golden  days  is  blissful  and 
balmier  than  balm — '  from  morn  to  noon,  from  noon 
till  dewy  eve,'  all  luxury  and  delight.  Oh,  the  sun- 
rising  out  of  that  sea  of  silvery  vapour,  where  one  by 
one  the  mountain-tops  reveal  themselves  in  grandeur, 
surmounting  pine  and  conic  summit  down  to  the  ex- 
pansive base,  w'here  runs  the  flashing  rill  ;  while  all 
within  the  scooped-out  hollows  the  mist  still  rolls  in 
snowy  gulfs,  till  the  meridian  splendour  of  the  sun  dis- 
pels the  illusion  !  Oh!  the  blue  hazy  atmosphere  tender 
as  beams  of  the  full-risen  moon,  softening  those  pic- 
tures of  the  earth  which  only  eyes  like  Claude's 
know  how  to  fix  and  pencil  down  !  And  oh,  the 
luxury  of  life  on  such  a  day — Sabbath  of  Sabbaths  ! 
The  tinkling  kine  go  down  the  vale,  and  all  the  pas- 
toral picture  satisfies  the  sense,  W'hile  from  the  dis- 
tant spire  the  '  bells — bells — bells  !'  come  hovering 
on  the  air  with  sweeter  melody  ! 

Winding  about  the  grassy  slope  we  came  into  the 
woods,  talking  of  Titus  Livius — something  turned 
the  conversation  that  way — and  passed  through  a 
rustic  gate,  whoso  hinges  were  of  green  withes,  and 
pivoted  upon  a  stump  ;  master-piece  of  the  farmer's 
art,  the  extempore  composition  of  a  half-hour,  when 
his  hatchet  w'as  unemployed  in  the  woods.  So  in- 
geniously is  it  put   together,    that   the    elbows   and 


70  U  P     T  H  E     R  I  V  E  R . 

crooked  part  of  the  wood  seem  to  have  been  pre- 
destined, and  to  have  grown  up  in  their  gnarled  and 
knotted  crookedness,  for  the  express  purpose  of  that 
gate.  If  I  had  an  eye,  I  would  draw  it  upon  this 
paper,  as  a  very  pleasing  object  to  look  upon  ;  for 
when  in  the  course  of  taking  a  ride  you  are  inter- 
rupted by  such  a  gate,  it  well  repays  for  the  trouble 
of  opening  and  shutting,  to  find  the  tokens  of  talent 
and  artistic  skill.  That  is  a  charming  ride  through, 
those  woods  in  the  spring,  when  the  sassafras,  the 
birch,  and  all  the  aromatic  woods  are  bursting  their 
plump  buds,  and  when  the  tender  grape  gives  a  good 
smell.  It  is  so  in  the  midsummer.  Coolness  re- 
sides in  those  deep  dells  ;  hollows  scooped  out, 
where,  as  you  look  down  by  the  way,  you  must  drop 
a  plummet  very  deep  before  it  would  reach  the  tops 
of  the  lofty  oaks,  or  sink  among  the  thick  green  fo- 
liage of  the  trees.  The  oak  throws  its  over-master- 
ing arms  above  you,  and  exhibits  its  crown  beneath. 
These  are  the  snuggest  nestling  spots  for  birds. 
Here  the  gray  squirrel  throws  his  ornamental  tail 
above  his  back,  or  picks  a  hazel-nut  with  delicate 
grace;  and  the  mischievous  blue-jay  dives  into  the 
thickest  shades  with  a  sharp  scream,  that  guilty 
bird! 

Riding  on  that  pleasant  Sunday  morning,  as  pres- 


UP    THE    KIVEK.  71 

(nilly  wo  passed  beneath  a  canopy  of  ciiestiiut 
boughs,  we  heard  again  the  tinkling  water-brooks 
and  Sunday  bells.  The  mountains  which  gird  us 
in  on  every  hand  are  now  changing  their  foliage 
from  the  many  varieties  of  green,  which  belong  to 
spring  and  summer,  to  the  triumphal  colours  which 
mark  the  spanning  rainbow  or  the  setting  sun. 
Among  all  the  trees  the  pepperidge  now  distm- 
guishes  itself  even  beyond  the  maple  for  its  superb 
tints.  The  intermingling  of  purple  with  the  yet 
green  tops  of  the  locust-groves  is  indescribably  rich, 
or  with  the  orange-yellow  of  the  oak,  around  which 
the  American  ivy  is  entwined,  or  hangs  in  festoons 
upon  the  fences  ;  and  wherever  the  eye  turns,  the 
display  of  rainbow  colours  is  seen  on  every  hand. 
But  you  must  travel  farther  north  to  see  the  pomp 
of  the  dying  year.  Do  you  remember  that  '  Ride 
through  the  Gulf,'  written  by  Carolus  Brooks  ?  It 
is  a  sumptuous  account. 

At  this  season,  so  voluptuous  in  its  softness,  some 
apple,  plum,  peach,  and  pear  trees  venture  to  bloom 
anew.  I  have  sometimes  found  the  ripe  strawberry 
in  the  open  air.  'Doubtless  God  might  have  made 
a  better  berry,'  says  an  old  writer,  'but  he  never 
did  ;'  and  so  I  thought  when  taking  a  last  leave  in 
the  fall  of  the  exquisite  flavor  of  that  fruit  of  fruits 


72  ^'P     THE    RIVER. 

I  made  a  basket  of  the  dry  husks  of  corn,  placed 
therein  a  handful  gathered  with  patient  industry 
among  the  red  and  decaying  leaves.  Now  also  do 
the  grapes  abound,  Isabella  and  Catawba  vie  in 
purple  blush,  but  Scuppernong  is  too  effeminate  for 
the  cold  North.  Not  long  ago  I  walked  under  a 
glassy  dome,  with  the  most  glorious  clusters  above 
my  head,  transparent  to  the  very  heart,  and  burst- 
ing their  tender  skins  with  juice.  A  rill  of  great 
transparency  really  oozed  from  the  corners  of  my 
mouth  ;  and  as  the  generous  host  gave  me  by  the 
stem  a  full-grown  bunch,  I  ate  them  with  a  feeling 
of  self-reproach.  How  many  a  sick  and  parched 
mouth  would  have  been  revived  by  what  1  wantonly 
ate  up  with  the  most  abandoned  luxury  !  These 
are  for  the  tables  of  the  rich;  but  the  time  is  com- 
ing when  the  vine-clad  hills  shall  be  a  feature  in 
the  glorious  land,  and  the  vintage  a  festive  season 
to  the  sons  of  toil.  Then  shall  Nature  perfect  the 
convulsive  effort  to  alleviate  a  mighty  wrong.  Bac- 
chus and  Ceres  shall  be  made  friends.  But  what 
are  those  golden  balls  in  yonder  stubble-field, 
among  the  standing  stacks  of  corn  ?  Pumpkins 
my  friend.  Of  these  the  crop  is  plentiful  and  good 
and  though  I  do  not  like  the  ordinary  pumpkin-pie, 
far  be  it  from  me  to  rejoice  not  in  the  prospects  of 


UPTHERIVER.  73 

those  who  do.  It  is  the  height  of  folly  to  set  up 
your  own  taste  as  a  standard  for  the  world.  Never 
did  this  crop  more  dot  the  fields  ;  and  I  can  assure 
you,  that  it  is  a  sight  at  least  to  feast  the  eye  where 
you  behold  the  distant  slope  all  covered  with  the 
auriferous  fruit  of  this  vine  ;  while  I  can  anticipate 
in  my  heart  the  full  sentiment  of  a  New  England 
Thanksgiving. 

We  must  make  the  most  of  mid-summer,  the  most 
of  Indian  summer,  the  most  of  splendid  October ; 
for  with  the  fall  of  the  leaf  the  pastoral  feeling  will 
subside,  and  it  is  hard  to  write  an  Idyl  by  a  stove. 
But  now,  as  I  pass  through  the  woods,  or  explore 
the  bottom  of  dells  like  the  aforesaid,  I  can  with 
my  whole  heart  draw  out  the  ivory  tablets,  silver- 
clasped,  which  you  gave  me,  what  time  we  wander- 
ed into  BoNFANTi's  on  a  pleasant  day,  and  sitting 
down  on  some  stump,  some  rock,  some  bank,  where 
the  living  waters  gush,  endeavor  to  transcribe  a  lit- 
tle of  the  feeling  which  I  had  in  full  force  when,  a 
boy,  I  read  Theocritus  and  Moschus,  and,  when  a 
man,  I  revelled  in  sweet  William's  Midsummer 
Night's  Dream.  Virgilius,  in  his  Eclogues, 
could  never  stir  up  in  me  rich  sylvan  sympa- 
thies, or  lull  me  in  a  dream.  In  vain  did  he 
talk  of  cheese   and    chestnuts,   fleeces   and  kine.      1 


74  UP    THE    RIVER. 

nevei  could  hear  the  bells  tinkle  on  his  herds.  Eclo- 
gue is  not  Idyl.  He  does  well  hj  jjius  ^Eneas,  but 
not  quite  so  well  by  Corydon,  and  Dam^eas,  and  Ty- 
TYRUs,  and  all  that  set  Only  one  line  still  tarries 
on  remembrance,  and  comes  up  involuntarily  on  the 
tongue  : 

'  Tttyre  dum  redeo,  brevis  est  via,  pasce  capellas.' 

I  saw  something  in  the  woods  to-day  which  struck 
me  sentimentally  :  is  it  worth  mentioning  ? — a  dead 
catydid  at  the  bottom  of  a  clear  spring.  Numbed  by 
the  frosty  night,  from  a  sublime  height  he  fell  into 
this  glassy  sarcophagus,  where  his  green  body  was 
laid  out  on  little  white  pebbles,  swathed  in  lymph, 
fit  sepulchre  for  a  nightingale  or  a  catydid.  When 
you  hear  the  hoarse  cicada  sing  in  the  sweltering 
heats  of  August,  soon  after  look  for  temperate 
nights  ;  and  by  the  time  the  lightning  bugs  have 
ceased  to  twinkle  on  the  mead,  and  casual  glow- 
worms shine  with  a  dull  lustre  in  the  path,  you  may 
expect  the  welcome  music  of  the  catydids,  who  love 
to  congregate  in  the  willow-groves,  ever  repeating 
that  mournful  story  of  the  broken  bottle  ;  and  the 
rule  is,  that  when  the  first  frosts  whiten  the  earth 
they  hush  their  song.  We  had  some  nipping  nights 
not  long  ago,  and  sat  in  the  cheerless  rooms  with  a 
mournful  feelmg  of  the  decaying  year.     But  again 


UP    THE    RIVER.  75 

the  windows  and  doors  are  flung-  wide  open  in  the 
heavenly  nights  ;  round  as  young  Norval's  shield 
the  full  moon  rides  aloft,  and  feebly  and  in  fewer 
numbers  the  catydids  resume  their  song. 

Give  me  any  music  but  the  mosquito's  roundelay, 
say  I.  I  have  watched  them  on  my  hand  until  then- 
bodies  became  little  red  globules,  like  the  bottles 
in  the  windows  of  an  apothecary's  shop.  After  ob- 
serving curiously  for  some  time  the  play  of  their 
delicate  antlers  and  white  speckled  legs,  like  the 
StatQ-prisoners'  breeches  at  Sing-Sing,  you  would 
hardly  kill  one  of  these  more  than  you  would  your 
own  child,  because  he  has  your  own  blood  in  his 
veins.  We  have  hardly  been  bothered  with  a  mos- 
quito among  these  mountains  this  summer  ;  but 
when  I  staid  in  town  the  other  night,  only  one  of 
these  tormentors  interrupted  the  rest  of  a  tired  man. 
I  laid  my  deliberate  plan  to  deprive  him  of  life,  in- 
dulging him  for  a  long  time  in  his  far-away  hum- 
mings,  his  flights  to  the  ceiling  and  return,  his  cir- 
cling movements  overhead,  his  tipping  touches  and 
retreat,  until  the  moment  should  come  for  a  fair, 
well-ordered  slap,  which  should  stop  his  music  for 
the  night.  But  amiable  humor  was  well-nigh  wor- 
ried out  in  waiting  for  revenge.  Now  he  alighted 
on  my  knuckle,  now  on  my  finger's  end  just  outside 


76 


UP    THE    RIVER, 


the  nail,  on  the  eye-lid,  on  the  lip,  on  the  lappet  of 
the  ear,  till  last  of  all,  he  ventured  to  apply  his 
sucking  apparatus  to  a  cheek  somewhat  pale,  and 
ill  supplied  with  blood.  Then  did  I  slap  my  face  as 
it  had  not  been  slapped  since  puerile  days.  *  Have 
you  killed  him  V  '  I  have,'  replied  I,  speaking  to 
myself,  and  forthwith,  satisfied  with  the  exploit,  fell 
into  a  tranquil  sleep,  dreaming  of  woods,  and  fields, 
and  water-brooks,  and  pleasant  scenes 


VI. 


October,  1852. 


^  !h.  Returned    from 

^^-^  -.  \-T-=  the  city  the  other 

evening-,  taking 
the  five  o'clock 
train.  It  was 
dismal,  cold,  drip- 
ping weather;  the 
windows  of  the 
cars  were  obscu- 
red with  drops, 
and  when  it  be- 
came pitch-dark, 
my  heart  was  al- 
most broken.   As 

we  passed  under  the  stone  bridg- 
"^^v,-  es,  the    clatter    was    enough    to 

drive  a  nervous  rnrin  out    of  his   wits.     The  annoy- 


78  U  P    T  H  E     R  I  V  E  R  . 

ance  of  the  wet  conductors  continually  demanding 
your  ticket,  for  which  you  are  obliged  to  hunt  in 
all  your  pockets,  is  excessive.  Some  people  insert 
their  tickets  under  the  rim  of  their  hats.  The  cus- 
tom is  good  on  the  score  of  convenience,  but  it  is 
not  pleasant  to  be  thus  placarded.  When  we  stopped 
opposite  Newburgh,  a  '  city  set  on  an  hill,'  the  lights 
in  the  factories  and  mansions  shone  with  a  pictu- 
resque effect.  There  I  got  out,  while  the  mist  was 
chilling  in  the  extreme,  and  it  was  as  dark  as  pitch. 
A  long  row  of  soiled  carriages  stood  stuck  in  the 
mud.  I  fumbled  my  way  to  the  end  of  a  long,  nar 
row  platform  about  a  quarter  of  a  mile,  to  search 
for  my  trunk,  which  was  buried  up  amidst  a  multi- 
tude of  trunks,  and  found  it  with  difficulty.  Rode 
five  or  six  miles  in  company  of  five  or  six  '  darnj) 
strangers,'  and  alighted  at  last  at  my  own  door. 
The  house  was  shut  up,  and  like  the  '  halls  of  Bal- 
clutha,  it  was  desolate.'  After  stumbling  over 
chairs,  I  u}anaged  to  find  a  Ijucifer  match,  and  draw- 
ing it  in  a  long  lucid  train,  like  that  of  a  comet, 
over  the  kitchen  wall,  it  oozed  out  at  last  in  a  blue 
flower  of  sulphurous  flame,  and,  feebly  simmering, 
went  out.  Struck  another  on  the  stove-pipe  with 
better  success.  The  cheerlessness  of  the  vacant 
mansion    was    made    apparent.       '  Fel — o — erah  I' 


UPTHERIVER.  79 

I  cried  with  tender  reminiscence.     This  leads  one 
to  mention  a  sketch  or  two  of  domestic  adventure. 


FLORA. 

We  had  dismissed  our  little  servant-maid  be- 
fore departing.  The  fiat  had  gone  forth  against 
her  :  she  was  not  available  in  household  af- 
fairs. 'Fel-o-o-eraii,'  I  said,  'you  must  leave 
us.  You  are  a  good  girl,  but  you  are  too 
young.  Pack  your  chest,  and  when  the  coach 
arrives  be  ready  to  go  with  me.  You  have  had  a 
month's  warning.'  But  Felora  continued  sedulously 
employed  in  the  washing  of  dishes,  and  neglected  the 
packing  of  the  trunk.      '  Felo-erah,  are  you  ready  V 

'  A-rio,  Sir.'  '  Well,  there  is  not  a  half-hour  to 
spare.  Go  up  stairs  immedrately  and  be  ready.' 
But  the  little  maid  became  disobedient  ;  she  moped 
weeping  in  the  chimney-corner  among  the  pot-hooks, 
raking  the  ashes.     '  What  are  you  about,  child  V 

She  was  the  first  servant  we  ever  had,  and  the  la- 
bour was  not  hard,  and  she  had  been  gently  entreated. 
For  it  is  sometimes  disgusting  in  a  household  to  be- 
hold the  severity  of  exaction  from  a  poor  little  ser- 
vant-of-all-work.     When  you  have   your  butler  and 


80  UPTHERIVER. 

your  baker,  your  pastry-cook,  your  chamber-maid, 
your  coachman,  your  footman,  your  fat  and  well- 
fed  menials,  who  keep  high-life  below  stairs,  and 
waste  much  substance,  have  a  sharp  eye  on  them  in 
this  republican  country,  and  see  to  it  that  they  do 
enough.  Otherwise  they  will  insult  you  in  your 
own  domicile,  and  shake  a  cow-hide  over  your  head. 
They  will  have  the  arrogance  to  speak  good  En- 
glish in  your  presence,  and  to  vie  with  you  in  the 
choicest  phrases  of  which  the  language  admits. 
Crop  this  impudence  in  the  bud. 

At  the  same  time,  if  you  have  only  one  poor 
little  maid-servant,  do  not  imagine  that  she  is 
butler,  baker,  house-keeper,  cook,  chamber-maid, 
coachman,  footman  ;  and  that  you  can  set  up  to  live 
in  style.  Learn  to  wait  a  little  on  yourself,  if  you 
cannot  pay  for  being  waited  upon.  Shut  up  your 
windows  at  night,  and  black  your  own  boots  in  the 
morning.  Go  frequently  upon  your  own  errands. 
Open  the  door  yourself  when  the  bell  rings,  that 
those  outside  may  not  stand  for  ten  minutes  while 
they  hear  a  voice  within  imperiously  from  the  stair- 
landing  summoning  the  poor  little  maid-servant  from 
the  garret  or  from  the  '  cellar  kitchen'  '  to  go  and 
see    who  is   there.'     She    receives   little,   and   then 


UPTHERIVER.  81 

she  is  ordered  about  from  sun-rise  till  late  at 
night  to  do  this  and  to  do  that ;  to  go  here 
and  to  go  there  ;  to  lift  heavy  weights  and 
draw  heavy  burdens  ;  to  run  up  stairs  and  to 
hurry  into  the  cellar  ;  to  go  over  to  the  next  neigh- 
bor's ;  to  bring  a  pitcher  of  water,  another,  another, 
another,  another,  another  !  if  it  be  hot  weather  ;  to 
wash,  and  to  iron,  and  to  cook ;  and  to  break  her 
little  heart  in  attempting  to  do  all  things,  and  to  be  re- 
munerated with  nothing  but  sour  looks  and  a  severe 
scolding 

*  Fel-o-e-rah,  are  you  ready  ?  The  coach  is  com- 
ing.' '  A-yes,  Sir  ;'  and  she  comes  down  the  steep 
garret-stairs  holding  in  her  arms  a  little  box  contain- 
ing her  worldly  goods  ;  her  tidy  bonnet  is  fastened 
by  a  blue  ribbon  beneath  h^r  chin,  and  her  pretty 
English  cheeks  red  with  weeping.  Flora  almost 
positively  refused  to  go,  but  stopped  on  this  side  of 
actual  disobedience,  and  submission  when  it  did 
come  came  like  a  virtue,  and  caused  me  to  feel  like 
turning  a  suppliant  out  of  doors.  Florencha  (that 
was  her  name)  went  to  take  her  last  look  at  the  chick- 
ens. She  had  fed  my  Shanghais  with  singular 
ability,  but  alas  !  she  was  not  endued  by  nature  with 
mental  qualifications,  which  was  no  fault  of  the  poor 


82  UPTHERIVER. 

child's  ;  nor  was  her  memory  tenacious  of  instruc- 
tion. I  returned  her  in  safety  to  the  paternal 
roof. 

When  I  returned  to  my  own  vacant  house  on  the 
aforesaid  rainy  night,  my  heart  almost  smote  me. 
There  was  a  tender  pathos  in  the  silent  kitchen  : 
the  disposition  of  all  things  gave  indication  of  a  hasty 
departure  ;  it  was  a  reminiscence  of  Florencha  : 
the  night-lamp  crusted  with  a  sooty  crown  ;  the 
parti-colored  beans  arranged  upon  a  board  on  a  bar- 
rel ;  the  expressive  broom  standing  in  a  corner  ;  the 
Indian  meal  in  a  saucer — last  meal  given  to  the 
Shanghai  chickens  !  The  stove-pipe  looked  very 
black,  and  the  stove  very  cold  and  dismal.  And 
there  on  the  mantle-piece  was  the  forgotten  prayer- 
book,  forgotten  in  the  hurry  of  departure,  with  a 
leaf  turned  down  at  the  catechism.  Every  Sunday 
evening  I  used  to  say,  (she  was  a  mere  child,)  'Fel- 
0-o-E-RAH,  have  you  learned  your  lesson  ?  '  A — yes, 
Sir.'  '  Let  me  hear  you.  What  is  your  name  V 
'  N.  or  M.'  'Oh  no,  what  is  your  Christian  name? 
*  Flora  Fairchild..'  '  Yes,  Fairchild  is  your  pa- 
rents' name  ;  what  name  was  given  to  you  in  bap- 
tism ?'  'Florencha.'  '  That  is  right.  Fel-0-o-o- 
er-re-e-en-cha  !   now  tell  me,'   etc. 

To  return  to  a  dark,  and  dead,  and  desolate  abode, 


UPTHERIVER.  83 

is  like  going  into  the  chambers  of  Ilerculaneum  and 
Pompeii.  In  the  hurry  of  events  and  refreshing  in- 
fluence of  a  change  of  scene,  you  hq.ve  taken  no 
note  of  time  since  your  departure,  and  on  returning 
home  you  feel  as  if  you  had  been  gone  a  long  time, 
I  went  into  my  study — my  library,  if  the  room  is 
worthy  to  be  called  by  such  a  name — and  after  the 
rasping  of  innumerable  matches  against  a  piece  of 
rough  paper,  and  (that  proving  of  no  avail)  on  the 
sole  of  my  boot,  managed  to  ignite  the  study-lamp. 
It  would  not  burn  until  I  had  trimmed  the  wick  and 
poured  water  into  it,  which  sank  duly  to  the  bottom, 
the  oil-wave  coming  uppermost.  Then  the  room 
became  a  little  cheerful,  and  the  gilded  superscrip- 
tion of  the  books  on  the  shelves  visible.  The  names 
of  Rabelais,  Swift,  Sterne,  Shakspeare,  Charles 
Lamb,  and  others,  glared  out.  Mypipe  lay  upon  the  ta- 
ble, containing  still  a  smokable  pinch  of  Scarfalatti. 
For  comfort  sake  I  put  it  into  my  mouth  and  smoked  it. 
My  pen  lay  where  I  had  left  it,  rusted  down  on  the 
mahogan)  board,  and  a  little  thick  ink  remained  in 
the  font.  I  took  it  up  and  wrote  with  it  as  if  it  had 
been  a  relic  of  by-gone  ages.  Over  the  table  hung 
a  fine,  almost  invisible  silken  thread,  at  the  end  of 
which,  betwixt  me  and  the  lamp,  was  suspended  a 
little  spider,  who  with   nautical   endeavor  began  to 


84  UPTHERIVER. 

climb.  With  my  thumb  and  fore-finger  I  broke  the 
thread  asunder,  and  snapped  the  spider  on  the  floor. 
I  never  like  to  crush  a  spider,  nor  to  clear  away 
with  the  besom  of  destruction  the  net-work  which 
he  has  woven  in  the  room-corners.  It  is  a  trap  for 
the  nauseous  and  disgusting  fly,  for  the  spiteful  and 
vindictive  hornet.  When  you  have  innocently  laid 
your  hand  on  some  book  or  cushion,  and  have  been 
stung  by  one  of  these,  how  gratifying  to  see  him 
presently  entangled  in  a  web,  while  the  agile  little 
insect  comes  down  the  ropes,  and  with  his  delicate 
fingers  winds  him  round  and  round,  and  pinions  his 
arms,  struggle  as  he  will  ! 


THE  VALETUDINARIAN. 


'  M ,'  I    said,    '  I    have    brought    you    to    a 

cold,  dreary  house !'  I  must  tell  you  that  I  had 
been  fool  enough  to  bring  a  friend  to  my  house, 
and  he  an  invalid  man.  Sitting  in  the  cars  I 
espied  him,  and  with  a  devilish  selfishness  said,  '  I 
will  have  that  man  to  share  with  me  the  dreariness 
of  this  cold  and  misty  night.'  I  walked  up  to  him, 
and  tapped  him  on  the  shoulder.      'Ah  !'  said  he, 


UPTHERIVER.  g5 

*  Come,'  said  I,  in  a  chirping  tone  of  concealed  hy- 
pocrisy, 'and  make  my  house  your  home.  There 
is  nobdody  there,  but  we  will  have  a  good  time  of  it. 
You  are  going  to  the  Point.  Never  mind,  come  with 
me.'  In  a  moment  of  delusion  the  infatuated  man 
agreed.  After  we  had  conversed  for  a  few  minutes 
in  the  study  we  began  to  feel  cold.  'Now,'  said  I, 
we  must  have  a  rousing  fire,  and  a  cup  of  hot  tea: 
that  will  make  us  feel  better.  Excuse  me  for  a 
moment;  amuse  yourself  till  I  return.  I  will  step 
over  and  ask  Palmer  to  come  and  kindle  a  good 
fire,  and  help  me  along.  All  will  be  right.'  'Well,' 
said  he.  Palmer  is  my  right-hand  man.  There 
is  an  old  farm-house  about  fifty  yards  off.  It  used 
to  be  a  tavern  in  the  Revolutionary  War.  It  has 
settled  a  good  deal  within  the  last  hundred  years ; 
that  is  to  say,  the  walls,  the  floors,  and  the  beams 
are  sunken  very  much  from  the  horizontal  line  ob- 
servable in  the  floor  of  a  bowling  alley  ;  and  the 
chimneys  look  weather-beaten.  Still  it  is  a  stout 
and  substantial  old  house,  and  there  is  no  doubt 
that  it  would  last  with  a  little  more  patching  another 
hundred  years.  There  is  a  long  piazza  in  front  of 
it,  which  is  much  sunken,  and  in  the  yard  an  old- 
fashioned  well,  which  has  afforded  drink  to  cattle 
and  to  men  for  a  century  and  more.    The  waters  are 


56  UP    THE     RIVER. 

still  transcendently  sweel  and  lucid.  When  the 
summer-heats  raged  in  the  past  August,  I  used  to 
stop  and  imbibe,  taking  my  turn  out  of  the  tin  cup 
with  the  itinerating  pedlar  who  had  unburdened  his 
back  of  the  wearisome  load,  and  placed  it  beside  the 
trough.  Your  wine  of  a  good  vintage  may  make  the 
eyes  glisten  a  little  at  the  tables  of  luxury,  but  depend 
upon  it  a  well  of  water,  pure  water,  gushing  up  by  the 
way-side,  to  the  weary  and  heavy-laden  is  drink  in- 
deed. As  I  ascended  the  steps  of  the  piazza,  I  ob- 
served that  there  was  a  single  mould-candle  burning 
within,  and  knocked  confidently  at  the  door  of  the 
house.  It  was  opened.  '  Is  Palmer  within?'  'No, 
John  is  absent.  He  will  be  gone  over  Sunday.' 
Alas  !  alas  !  1  turned  on  my  heel,  opened  the  garden- 
gate,  and  finding  the  path  through  the  peach-trees 
with  some  difficulty  on  the  misty  night,  went  back 
to  the  forlorn  study. 

My  invalid  friend  looked  dismal  enough.  *  Come,' 
said  I,  slapping  him  on  the  back  very  gently,  (to 
have  done  it  roughly  on  the  present  emergency 
would  have  been  to  insult  him,)  'we  have  to  take 
care  of  ourselves.  What  is  more  easy?  We  must 
flare  up.  We  must  have  a  little  light,  a  little  fire. 
My  next-door  neighbour  is  away.  That  makes  not 
the  least  diff'erence.'    With  that  I  liffhted  the  astral 


UPTHE      RIVER  87 

lamp — no,  the  globe-lamp — a  contemptible  affair, 
which  is  a  disgrace  to  the  inventor.  You  raise  the 
wick  as  high  as  possible  before  it  will  shed  any  light 
at  all.  In  a  moment  it  glares  out,  and  presently  be- 
comes dim,  filling  your  apartment  with  suffocating 
smoke  and  soot.  Confound  the  lamp,  with  its  brazen 
shaft  and  marble  pedestal !  I  could  with  a  good  will 
dash  it  on  the  floor. 

I  remembered  that  there  was  an  abundance  of 
shavings  under  the  shed.  Going  out,  I  collected  an 
arm-full  and  rammed  them  into  the  kitchen  stove, 
put  in  a  few  chips,  and  a  stick  or  two  of  wood,  and 
applied  a  match.  Then  I  took  the  tea-kettle,  and 
tramping  to  the  well,  filled  it  with  water,  placed  it 
upon  the  stove,  and  it  presently  bubbled.  Took 
down  a  caddy  of  black  tea.  After  a  while  I  found 
a  loaf  of  stale  bread,  which  makes  excellent  toast. 
In  three  quarters  of  an  hour,  during  which  I  spent 
the  time  in  purgatory,  I  returned  to  the  study  and 
said,  touching  my  friend  on  the  shoulder,  'Tea  is 
ready.'  We  went  into  the  kitchen  and  sat  down.  I 
said  grace.  The  lamp  smoked,  the  fire  burned  poorly, 
the  tea  was  cold,  my  friend  shivered,  and  I  after- 
ward heard  that  he  said  that  I  seemed  to  think  that 
the  globe-lamp  was  both  light  and  warmth.  The 
ungrateful  wretch  !     After  tea,  the  first  natural  im- 


88  U  P     T  II  E     R  I  Y  E  R 

pulse   was   to   get   warm,    and   still   keep   ourselves 
alive.     My  friend  behaved  extremely  well,  all  things 
considered  ;    and   as  the  stove  wanted  replenishing 
with  shavings  every  five  minutes,  he  acted  once  or 
twice  as  a  volunteer  on  this  mission.     He  tried  to 
he  cheerful,  but  his  visage  looked  sad.      'How  stern 
of  lineament,  how  grim!'     For  my  part,  I  could  not 
but  enjoy  an  inward  chuckle,  like  one  who  has  the 
best  of  a  bargain  in  the  purchase  of  a  horse.    People 
come  to  your  house  to  be  entertained.     In  the  hands 
of  your  hospitality  they  are  like  dough  to  be  moulded 
into  any  shape  of  comfort.     They  fairly  lay  them- 
selves out  to  be  feted,  and  feasted,  and  flattered,  and 
soothed,    and   comforted,    and   tucked   in    at   night. 
They  enjoy  for  the  time  being  a  luxurious  irrespon- 
sibility.    With  what  composure  do  they  lounge  in 
your  arm-chair,  and  lazily  troll  their  eyes  over  the 
pictures  in  your  show-books  !      How  swingingly  they 
saunter  on  your  porch  or  in  your  garden,  with  their 
minds  buoyant  as  thistle-down,  lightly  inhaling  the 
aromatic  breeze,  fostered  by  all  whom  they  meet,  and 
addressing  all  in  lady-tones.    Bless  their  dear  hearts, 
how  they  do  grind  their  teeth  for  dinner!     Dinner! 
Sometimes   it  is  no  easy  matter  to  get  up  a  dinner. 
While  they  are  in  this  opiate  state,  the  man  of  the 
house  is  in  cruel  perplexity,  and  beef-steaks  are  rare. 


U  P    T  II  E     R  I  V  E  R  .  89 

Oh  !  it  is  a  rich  treat  and  triumph,  now  and  then,  to 
have  these  fellows  on  the  hip;  to  see  them 
put  to  some  little  exertion  to  conceal  their  feelings, 
when  they  have  expected  all  exertion  to  be  made  on 
the  other  part ;  to  scan  their  physiognomy,  and  to 
read  their  thoughts  as  plainly  as  if  printed  in  the 
clearest  and  most  open  type:  'This  does  not  pay. 
You  will  not  catch  me  in  this  scrape  again.  I  will 
go  where  I  can  be  entertained  better.'  I  say  that  I 
enjoy  their  discomfiture,  and  consider  it  (if  it  happen 
rarely)  a  rich  practical  joke.  It  is  entirely  natural, 
and  in  accordance  with  correct  principles,  that  they 
should  feel  exactly  as  they  do.  Does  it  not  agree 
with  what  I  have  already  said?  Constituted  as  we 
are,  there  must  be  the  outward  and  visible  sign  to 
stir  up  the  devotion  of  the  heart.  Your  grace  of 
warm  welcome  will  not  do.  Give  your  friend  a 
good  dinner,  or  a  glass  of  wine  ;  let  the  fire 
be  warm  and  bright.  Then  he  will  come  again. 
Otherwise  not.  It  is  human  nature,  At  any  rate, 
it  is  my  nature.  Here,  however,  we  draw  the  fine 
hair-line  of  distinction.  If  your  friend  thinks  more 
of  the  animal  than  of  the  spiritual;  if  he  neglects 
any  duty,  undervalues  any  friendship,  because  the 
outward  is  poor,  meagre,  of  necessity  wanting,  call 
him  your  friend  no  more! 


90  U  P    T  H  E    R  I  V  E  R  . 

'Let  us  g-o  to  bed,'  said  I.  'Done,'  said  he.  'No, 
not  done.  The  beds  are  to  be  made.  There  is  no 
chambermaid  in  the  house.  What  of  that'  Excuse 
me  for  a  moment  while  you  ram  a  few  more  shavings 
into  the  stove.'  I  go  up  stairs  into  the  spare  cham- 
b3r.  I  can  find  nothing.  After  a  half-hour's  work, 
I  manage,  however,  to  procure  pillow-cases,  sheets, 
blankets.  I  go  down  stairs  and  tap  my  shivering 
friend  on  the  shoulder,  and  say,  chirpingly,  '  Come, 
you  must  go  to  your  snuggery,  your  nest.  You  will 
sleep  like  a  top,  and  feel  better  in  the  morning.' 

I  get  him  into  bed,  and  after  his  nightcap  is  on, 
and  his  head  upon  the  pillow,  I  say,  'Good  night; 
pleasant  dreams  to  you.' 

'Good  night,'  he  responded,  with  a  feeble  smile. 

Then  I  tumbled  into  my  own  bed,  which  was  made 
up  anyhow,  looking  out  first  on  the  moon  just  rising 
above  the  fogs.  Oh!  thou  cold,  dry,  brassy  Moon! 
do  not  shine  into  my  chamber  when  I  want  repose. 
Phcebe,  Diana,  Luna,  call  thee  by  whatever  name, 
let  not  thy  pale  smile  be  cast  upon  my  eyes  !  If  so, 
sweet  sleep  is  gone,  and  pleasant  dreams.  Out,  out, 
OUT  with  thy  skeleton  face,  O  volcanic,  brassy  Moon  ! 

When  the  morrow  came,  I  went  into  my  friend's 
chamber,  and,  as  if  he  had  been  a  king  or  a  prince. 


UP    THE     RIVER.  (Jl 

asked  liim  how  he  had  rested  during  the  night,  and 
if  the  coverlets  had  kept  him  warm.  He  was  com- 
pelled to  say,  as  he  was  a  man  of  strict  veracity, 
that  he  had  been  a  little  cold.  The  undiscriminating 
varlet '  I  had  given  him  all  the  blankets  in  the 
house. 

It  was  Sunday  morning.  A  Sunday  in  the  country 
is  a  theme  on  which  my  invalid  friend,  who  is  an 
author,  had  expatiated  with  wonderful  effect  in  one 
of  his  books.  When  he  came  down  stairs,  as  the 
shavings  were  not  yet  lighted,  I  took  him  by  the 
arm,  and  proposed  a  walk  on  the  grass.  But  the 
grass  was  wettened  by  copious  dews.  He  returned 
chilled,  and  hovered  over  the  cold  stove.  It  was 
nearly  time  for  breakfast,  but  I  had  not  given  him  a 
word  of  encouragement  on  that  point.  Breakfast 
was  a  puzzler.  All  of  a  sudden,  striking  my  hand 
on  my  forehead,  as  if  in  the  elicitment  of  a  bright 
idea,  I  rushed  out  of  the  kitchen,  crossed  the  little 
garden,  and  knocked  at  the  door  of  the  old  farm- 
house. 

The  face  of  the  good  landlady  was  forthwith  visi- 
ble. *  Madame,'  I  said,  '  I  am  in  a  little  quandary. 
I  have  a  friend  with  me  ;  beside  ourselves  there  is 
nobody  and   nothing   in   the  house.     Will  you  have 


92  UP    THE    RIVER. 

the  kindness  to  provide  us  breakfast,  dinner,  and  tea 
to-day  V 

She  most  obligingly  consented.  In  half  an  hour 
I  conducted  the  author  triumphantly  to  the  old  man- 
sion. The  clean  white  table-cloth  was  spread  ;  the 
room  was  '  as  warm  as  toast,'  and  my  friend's  spirits 
revived.  We  went  to  church.  His  responses  were 
heart-felt  and  audible.  On  returning,  the  w'alk  made 
his  blood  circulate  a  little,  and  as  he  sat  in  the 
rocking-chair  in  the  old  farm-house  waiting  for  the 
broiled  chicken,  and  looking  up  at  the  white-washed 
beams,  he  was  the  picture  of  contentment.  I  was 
almost  provoked  with  myself  for  getting  him  into 
such  a  comfortable  fix.  We  had  seated  ourselves  at 
the  table,  and  were  pleasantly,  I  think  I  may  sd.y  luxu- 
riously, engaged  in  the  empicking  of  chicken-bones, 
when  a  remarkable  incident  occurred.  It  was  ob- 
served that  there  was  not  a  drop  of  water  in  the 
pitcher.  This  was  an  oversight.  The  landlady 
with  the  kindest  alacrity  hurried  to  the  ancient  .well ; 
and  she  had  just  opened  the  door  on  her  return, 
when  putting  down  the  pitcher,  and  wringing  her 
hands,   she  cried  out : 

'  Oh  !  quick  !  quick  !  do  come  !  do  come  !  The 
fox  !  the  fox  !  the  fox  !' 

We  deserted  the  dinner-table  in  an  instant,  ran 


UPTHERIVER.  93 

out  on  the  piazza,  and  oh  !  what  a  sight  !  Within 
a  few  yards,  within  pistol-shot,  a  splendid,  sanctimo- 
nious, sly  Reynard  glided  with  a  mouse-foot  pace, 
crouching  as  he  went,  out  of  the  neighbouring  green 
patch,  leaped  softly  over  the  stone-wall,  crossed  the 
Tjad,  and  took  a  zig-zag  course  through  the  opposite 
corn-field;  waving  his  brown  tail,  which  was  of  the 
most  extensive  kind. 

The  provocation  was  most  intense.  Mister  Pal- 
mer, his  hair  standing  on  end,  rushed  to  the  house- 
corner  and  called  his  black  dog.  '  Here,  Boos  ! 
Boos  !  Boos  !  Boos  !'  But  Boos  w^as  barking  at  an 
ill-looking  customer  who  just  at  that  predicament 
of  time  tried  to  open  the  gate.  He  seized  him  (Boos) 
by  the  collar  ;  he  dragged  him  up  the  road,  but  the 
latter  was  altogether  behind  the  age.  Although  he 
did  not  succeed  in  striking  the  scent,  his  master  as- 
sured me  that  if  he  had  once  got  a  sight  of  the  ani- 
mal he  would  have  collared  him.  In  about  fifteen 
minutes  after  this,  a  couple  of  spotted  hounds,  hunting 
on  their  own  hook  and  on  the  Sabbath-day.  leaped 
over  the  wall,  and  went  nosing  about  to  the  right 
and  left,  hither  and  thither,  through  the  corn-field, 
and  we  heard  them  yelping  until  sun-down.  The 
fox  escaped. 


94  UP     THE     RIVEK. 

The  next  morning  my  friend  went  away.  I  can- 
not say  that  he  felt  very  sad  at  parting  with  me  ;  nay, 
I  thought  that  his  face  brightened  up  into  a  genial 
smile  as  the  coach  drew  near,  and  that  there  was 
something  concentrated  in  his  expression  as  he  gave 
the  house  a  parting  glance,  like  that  of  one  who 
bids  farewell  to  the  hard  rocks  and  inhospitable 
coast  on  which  he  has  been  shipwrecked. 


My  remaining  Shanghai  chicken  is  dead.  Two 
only  were  hatched.  One  fell  off  the  perch  on  a  nip- 
ping, frosty  night  ;  the  other  ran  trembling  about  in 
the  bleak  weather,  crying  and  chirping  piteously. 
One  morning  I  brought  it  into  the  house  nearly  dead, 
fed  it  with  bread-crumbs,  and  put  it  in  a  basket  by 
the  fire,  when  it  soon  revived.  It  used  to  runabout 
the  kitchen  familiarly,  and  sometimes  came  into  the 
parlour.  It  was  this  presumption  which  proved  fatal 
to  the  chick.  One  evening,  when  we  had  searched 
for  it  to  put  it  in  the  basket  for  the  night,  it  was  no 
where  to  be  found.  It  was  not  in  the  closets,  in  the 
corners,  under  the  tables,  under  sofas,  under  the 
chairs.  Holding  the  light  at  last  under  the  stove, 
there  lay  the  chicken,  stone  dead,  his  feathers  much 


UP    THE    RIVER.  95 

scorched.  I  was  like  the  poor  man  robbed  of  his 
one  little  ewe-lamb.  Oh,  how  mistaken  are  we  in 
our  deeds  !  Wipe  off  the  frosty  rime,  rescue  from 
the  bleakness  of  the  invisible  wind,  pull  the  poor 
freezling  out  of  a  snow-bank,  and  it  runs  into  a  hot- 
mouthed  furnace  of  its  own  accord.  T  shall  not  let 
my  Shanghai  hen  set  on  eggs  again.  She  is  not 
motherly,  and  my  opinion  is  somewhat  modified  as 
to  the  peculiarity  of  the  breed.  They  must  be 
hardened  and  acclimated  to  the  severity  of  our  win- 
ters. They  have  few  feathers,  and  those  very  light 
and  downy,  and  their  rear  is  ill-protected  by  the 
usual  appendage  of  a  tail.  As  I  told  you,  they  are 
pretty  well  bobbed.  Their  yellow  legs  are  covered 
to  the  toes  with  a  soft  down,  which  shows  them  to 
be  sensitive  to  cold,  for  which  nature  has  provided 
them  with  stockings.  I  thought  that  their  senti- 
ments— their  instincts,  I  ought  to  say — were  gener- 
ous ;  but  Mrs.  Palmer  told  me  that  the  rooster  would 
not  let  the  chickens  have  anything  to  eat,  but  snap- 
ped up  all  the  meal.  I  could  hardly  believe  that 
the  rooster  would  act  in  such  wise,  for  he  is  a  very 
strutting,  noble-looking  fowl.  Those  who  come  to 
my  house  admire  his  action  as  they  would  that  of  a 
good  horsfe.     I  intend  to  cultivate  the  stock,  because 


96 


UP    THE    RIVER. 


I  have  more  faith  in  it  than  some  do  :  and  Captain 
S.  told  me  that  I  should  have  a  young  pullet  in  the 
spring. 


VII. 


November,  1852. 


HE  last  vestiges 
of  summer  are  gone 
with  the  departing 
year.  The  garden- 
gate  is  closed,  the 
rusty  scythe  is  hung 
up,  the  cider-mills 
now  creak  and 
groan,  while  the 
few  remaining  ap- 
ples on  the  trees 
have  their  cheeks 
frost-bitten.  The 
threshing-floors  are 
the  scene  of  much 
riot  and  racket. 
The  flails  glance  in  the  air,  flung  aloft  by  strong 
arms,  the    fanning   mills  are   in    perpetual    motion, 


98  UP    THE     RIVER. 

and  the  old  horse  is  condemned  to  his  annual  punish- 
ment of  the  treadmill.  It  is  painful  to  see  him  mo- 
notonously stepping  on  an  inclined  plane  by  the 
hour  together,  weeping  out  perhaps  his  remaining 
eye,  and  while  winnowing  the  grain  for  others, 
rapidly  getting  himself  in  condition  to  be  turned 
out  to  die.  I  have  some  respect  for  the  Yankee  who 
invented  the  churning-machine  to  go  by  dog-power, 
but  none  whatever  for  the  WniTNEY-like  ingenuity 
which  contrived  this  torture  for  the  noble  horse. 
Yes  :  he  will  soon  be  turned  out  to  die,  like  that  raw- 
boned  animal  which  I  saw  the  other  day  on  the  turn- 
pike. He  had  been  a  farmer's  horse,  and  for  many 
seasons  had  ploughed  the  fields  and  did  his  share 
of  arduous  duty.  He  had  earned  the  hay  and  oats 
and  comfortable  stable  which  should  have  been  his 
reward  in  old  age.  Bnt  his  master  had  not  mercy 
enough  to  cut  his  throat,  although  he  could  have  got 
the  money  for  his  skin ;  and  now  he  wanders  about 
starving,  and  will  do  so,  until  the  town's  people  remove 
his  carcass  from  the  road,  a  stalking  monument 
of  base  ingratitude. 

The  other  day,  while  reading  a  book,  I  heard  a 
sound  on  the  highway  like  the  tramping  of  a  com- 
pany of  dragoons.  On  looking  out,  lo !  the  whole 
road   for  the  distance  of  a  quarter  of  a  mile  was 


UPTHERIVER.  99 

literally  crowded  with  jackasses,  with  their  ample 
ears,  and  tails  knobbed  like  a  lion's,  following  a  sin- 
gle horseman,  who  rode  solemnly  in  advance.  Their 
approach  was  productive  of  great  excitement  among 
the  horses  grazing  in  the  fields,  who  gallopped  up 
and  down  along  the  fence,  neighing  prodigiously.  I 
asked  the  conductor:  'How  many  asses  have  you?' 
He  replied,  'A  hundred  and  twenty-five.'  'Where 
do  you  take  them?'  'To  New-Haven.'  The  next 
day  another  troop  as  large  passed  by,  and  on  the 
next  another,  all  going  to  New-Haven.  They  are 
not,  however,  sent  there  to  be  put  to  college,  but  are 
thence  shipped  to  the  West  Indies.  The  exportation 
of  asses  from  the  country  is  immense :  yet  the  race 
does  not  appear  materially  diminished.  The  trade 
has  long  been  carried  on  at  New-Haven,  and  there 
is  perhaps  no  place  where  there  is  so  much  erudition, 
and  at  the  same  time  so  many  long  ears. 

Ever  since  the  white  frost  appeared,  and  the  air 
has  become  sharp,  your  ears  are  stunned  at  the 
break  of  day  by  long-continued  and  most  agonized 
squealings.  They  come  from  all  parts  of  the  com- 
pass. The  tender  pigling,  the  bristling,  obese  grunter, 
turns  his  white  bleared  eye,  now  suffused  with  flame, 
for  the  Jast  time,  with  a  tender  reminiscence,  to  the 
vacated  pen,  to  the  soft,  wallowing  sty.     Visions  of 


100  UP    THE    RIVER. 

potato-parings,  refuse,  and  sweet  nubbins,  straw-laid 
bed,  and  ring-tailed  darlings,  mingled  with  an  in- 
stinctive presentiment  of  the  whetted  knife.  Piggy 
does  not  march  to  his  execution  with  the  silent,  dog- 
ged resignation  of  a  condemned  criminal,  but  inva- 
riably with  a  resistance  of  the  strong  police,  and  im- 
mense lamentations.  As  he  always  went  contrary 
when  driven,  from  the  time  of  the  ringing  of  his 
rooting  snout,  he  now  uses  his  vast  muscular  energy 
to  take  his  own  part,  and  issues  a  squealing  protest 
against  being  killed.  He  resists  with  all  his  might, 
as  he  is  dragged,  pulled,  and  pushed  along  to 
slaughter.  But  Piggy  should  reflect  that  he  is  not 
the  only  animal  who  must  eat.  His  destiny  is  com- 
pound:  To  EAT  AND  TO  BE  EATEN.  The  first  part  he 
has  fulfilled  according  to  his  nature.  For  the  latter 
part  he  is  not  responsible.  You  will  now  see  him 
divested  of  his  bristles,  washed  as  white  as  snow  in 
a  scald-bath,  and  strung  up  by  the  heels,  with  his 
jaws  stretched  apart  by  a  dry  corn-cob.  The  next 
morning,  frozen  as  hard  as  a  rock,  he  will  be  stored 
with  other  produce  in  a  wagon,  with  his  hoofs  stick- 
ing out  from  beneath  a  blanket,while  the  countryman, 
his  head  crouched  on  his  shoulder  to  protect  him 
from  the  north-east  wind  or  a  driving  snow-storm, 
slowly  wends  his  way  to  market.     His  final  sepul- 


UP    THE    RIVER.  iQl 

chre  is  the  human  stomach.  He  whose  habitation 
was  so  lately  a  pig-sty,  and  his  foot  in  the  trough, 
whose  aspect  was  most  beastly,  most  hideous,  will 
soon  become  a  part  of  'fine  lords  and  fine  ladies,.' 
and  no  doubt  enter — I  say  it  without  disrespect — in- 
to the  grand  mausoleum  of  the  President  of  the 
United  States.  Behold  that  Senator  expound  the 
Constitution  !  Behold  that  Judge  upon  the  Bench  ! 
For  some  part  of  his  composition  he  is  indebted  to 
the  sty. 

So  much  for  the  transmigration  of  bodies,  of 
which  there  can  be  no  doubt,  and  the  flesh  of  pig  be- 
comes beatified  in  transparent  corporation.  It  re- 
sides in  the  vigor  of  the  manly  arm ;  it  is  in  the  pur- 
ple blush  of  youthful  beauty;  it  is  in  plumpness,  and 
flowing  lines,  and  tender  lineaments,  going  before  a 
creasy  age,  when  the  stomach  abjures  fat.  When, 
during  the  past  summer,  it  was  my  amusement  to 
hasten  to  the  sty,  at  the  emptying  of  the  desiderated 
slop-pail ;  when  I  listened  to  the  porcine  grunts,  and 
was  a  witness  of  that  beastly  emulation  to  obtain 
the  tit-bits  of  the  leavings,  and  the  choicest  of  the 
peels,  when  I  turned  away  from  the  ill-smelling  mud, 
and  reflected  seriously  how  much  is  conveyed  in  the 
very  name  of  hog,  I  can  scarcely  realize  the  trans 
fusion   of  such  grossness  to  so  much  delicacy  and 


102  UP    THE     RIVER. 

delight.  Each  household  is  now  enlivened  with 
preparation  for  a  'feast  of  fat  things.'  The  kitchen 
is  a  scene  of  continual  festivity:  every  tub  is  in  re- 
quisition; the  empty  larder  is  replenished:  the  lean 
poor  wax  fat.  What  a  hissing  and  what  a  frying ! 
What  an  unctuous  smell !  What  an  herbal  fragrance  ! 
The  cloven  feet  are  turned  to  bowls  of  transparent, 
palpitating  jelly.  And  souse !  souse !  Souse  is  a 
gelatinous,  emollient,  dainty  morsel.  Spare-ribs  are 
as  delicate  as  delicate  can  be  !  Steaks  !  Cook  them 
in  a  devil-dish,  with  a  little  currant-jelly  and  sauces, 
after  the  Doctor's  fashion,  and  they  are  beyond  all 
praise.  But  when  I  come  to  speak  of  crackling! — 
'fat,  call  it  not  fat!' — O  Charles,  Charles!  I  yield 
the  palm  to  thee ! — That  pen  of  thine  could  add  a 
charm  to  every  subject,  and  like  the  winter-time 
bedeck  with  greenest  sprigs  and  fragrant  parsley 
the  very  front  of  pig ! 

Again  the  little  ruddy  chunk,  with  its  alternate 
layers  of  lean  and  fat,  suited  alike  for  Jacob  Sprat 
or  for  his  excellent  wife,  whose  tastes  were  di- 
verse, used  always  to  be  served  up  at  judi- 
cious intervals  in  a  dish  called  sour-crout.  This 
dish  we  reverence  for  the  sake  of  our  Dutch  ances- 
tors ;  and  although  the  cabbage  at  a  certain  stage 
has  volitant  principles,  which,  beginning  at  the  kit. 


UP    THE    RIVER.  103 

chen,  walk  without  ceremony  into  the  parlour,  and 
stop  not  short  of  the  cock-loft  and  rafters — a  sort  of 
spiritual  cat — yet  it  has  to  the  initiated  a  fierce 
relish,  which  can  scarcely  be  described.  The  St. 
Nicholas  Society  will  bear  me  out  in  what  I  say. 
But  if  there  be  any  relish  of  life  for  which  we  are 
indebted  to  Piggy,  it  is  sausage;  and  sausage,  we 
have  been  always  taught,  to  be  relished,  must  be 
eaten  at  home.  I  remember,  when  a  boy,  the  par- 
ticularity of  old  grandmothers  in  the  preparation 
of  sausage.  What  cleanliness  was  required  !  How 
adequately  the  powdered  sage  and  other  herbs  were 
mingled  in  its  composition  !  And  when  it  came  up- 
on the  table,  with  buckwheat  cakes,  buttered  and 
cut  into  four  quarters,  on  a  hot,  full-sized  plate,  up- 
on my  word,  if  the  coffee  were  well-composed,  no 
breakfast  could  be  more  complete.  But  to  hear  me 
talk  in  this  way,  you  might  take  me  for  a  sensual 
epicure,  instead  of  being,  as  I  am,  a  man  who  can 
live  upon  a  dry  crust,  and  except  at  few-and-far-be- 
tween  intervals  of  hilarious  health,  cares  not  what 
he  eats,  so  long  as  it  be  well-served  and  clean  : 

•  I  CANNOT  eat  but  little  meat, 
My  stomach  is  not  good.' 

Perhaps  Mrs.  Hale's  immortal  cookery-book  gives 
the    best    receipt   for    sausage.      Having   said   thus 


104  UP    THE    HIVE  R. 

much  for  Piggy,  I  have  only  done  it  to  show  how  ad- 
mirably every  part  of  creation  fulfils  its  destiny,  and 
contributes  to  its  proper  end.  But  I  must  turn  the 
tables,  by  revealing  a  little  of  my  own  proper  senti- 
ment. Pork  1  like,  but  it  must  be  in  homcepathic  pro- 
portion. Last  winter  I  lived  on  the  sea-shore,  and  at 
'  killing-time,'  somebody  sent  me  a  chunk  of  aromatic 
head-cheese.  Sitting  up  late  at  night  before  a  good 
fire,  and  writing  as  I  am  now  in  the  'small  hours,'  an 
inclination  came  over  me  to  partake  of  supper.  1 
threw  upon  the  coals  a  half-dozen  fine  oysters,  and 
when  they  were  roasted  nearly  to  a  crisp,  partook 
of  them  with  a  little  good  bread-and-butter.  After- 
ward, to  do  justice  to  my  friend's  gift,  I  put  into  my 
mouth  a  small  piece  of  head-cheese  !  I  never  was 
more  convinced  of  the  grossness  of  fat.  Upon  my 
word,  no  Israelite  ever  loathed  a  morsel  of  the  un- 
clean animal  more  heartily  than  I  did  that  bit  of 
head-cheese.     It  sickened  me  on  the  spot ! 

But  all  people  cannot  attain  to  shell-fish.  When 
I  went  a-trouting  in  Vermont,  William  Mallory, 
by  profession  a  fisherman,  as  we  sat  down  to  take 
our  dinner  on  the  turf,  after  a  successful  day's  sport, 
used  to  tilt  his  bottle  of  raw  whisky  to  his  lips,  and 
then  cut  off  a  chunk  of  fat  pork.  'Gentlemen,'  he 
said,  'there  is  nothing  that  so  sets  onto  the  stomach.' 


UP    THE    II I  V  E  R  , 


105 


'Yes,'  said  I,  'this  way  of  taking  dinner  is  pleasant.' 
'Oh,'  said  he,  'that  isn't  all  of  it.  It's  more'n  that. 
It's  jiatur.''  But  before  I  get  through,  or  have  shown 
for  how  much  enjoyment  we  are  indebted  to  the  sty, 
I  must  make  you  realize  what  has  often  passed  be- 
fore my  own  eyes.  There  is  a  play-ground,  and  a 
hundred  boys  are  kicking  at  a  foot-ball.  Now  it 
flies  high  in  air,  and  into  the  next  field.  They  all 
tumble  over  the  rails,  following  each  other  like  a 
flock  of  sheep.  Now  they  have  it  in  a  corner,  and 
what  a  stubbing  and  a-kicking,  accompanied  by  a 
cry  of  '  shinnee  !  shinnee  !'  and  at  last  they  get  it  out, 
and  with  youthful  cheeks  flushed  with  health  and 
exercise,  with  a  succession  of  well-aimed  kicks,  they 
drive  it  home  to  the  goal.  Now  if  Piggy  had  not 
squealed  with  agony  in  the  morning,  this  game  could 
not  have  come  oflf  toward  eve. 


<^^i:^ 


VIII. 


December,  1852. 


--/ 


HE   year  is  passing 
away— passing  away  ; 
but    how   lamb-like  ! 
The  voice  of  'Bluster- 
ing Railer'  has  scarce 
been      heard  ;       the 
breeze  comes  soft  and 
^//     melting,    as     if   hot- 
wafted  from  the  aro- 
matic South  ;  the  jol- 
ly   sleigh-bells    have 
not   been  tuned,  and 
^=  the  river  freely  rolls 
within      its       banks. 
Soon,    alas !    it    will 
be  seen  no  more  as  a 
feature  in  the  landscape.      But  as  we  prize  an  absent 
friend  like  gold,  as  one  remembers  beauty  when  de- 


UP    THE    RIVER.  107 

parted,  so  I  have  learned  to  estimate  the  river  ;  not 
w^hen,  released,  it  flashes  in  the  sun,  but  when,  like 
Alpheus,  it  has  retreated  to  the  shades  ;  and  when 
a  winding-sheet  of  snow  is  on  its  breast,  and  when 
a  glass  is  on  its  face,  and  undistinguished  from  the 
common  earth,  its  sound  goes  forth  no  more,  and  the 
granite  hills  stand  up  like  monuments  of  its  depart- 
ed glory.  Now  its  great  heart  throbs  ;  its  pulse 
ebbs  and  flows  :  its  face  sparkles  with  animation, 
and  mirrors  many  a  pleasing  image.  The  winter 
tarries  :  Death  has  yet  failed  to  assert  his  silent 
reign. 

Rejoice,  0  homeless  and  poverty-stricken  !  Truly 
says  the  sentimental  one,  '  God  tempers  the  wind 
to  the  shorn  Iamb.'  But  when  He  gives  to  it  a  cut- 
ting edge,  and  bars  the  living  streams,  He  opens 
human  hearts,  and  keeps  the  tear  of  Pity  from  being 
frozen.  Thus  while  the  bosom  of  the  bounteous 
Earth  is  cold,  the  golden  harvest  is  transferred  to 
gentler  zones,  and  Ruth  goes  gleaning. 

****** 

Now  among  the  Highlands  the  mist  ascends  in 
the  moist,  unseasonable  weather.  It  rolls  in  and 
out  of  the  deep  clefts  and  gorges,  creeps  over  the 
table-land,   and   every  peak  smokes  like  a  volcano. 


108  UP    THE    RIVER 

When  the  sun  went  down  last  night,  obscured  be- 
hind the  hills,  the  eaves  dripped,  and  presently  there 
came  a  drenching  rain.  '  This  weather  cannot  last, 
albeit  it  is  kindly  to  the  poor.'  Presently  the  wind 
blew  shrill  around  the  house-corners,  whistled  down 
the  chimney,  and  then  was  heard  shrieking  and  dy- 
ing away  afar  off.  '  It  is  chopping  about  ;  we  shall 
have  it  cold  toward  morning.'  I  went  to  the  outer 
door,  and  'flung  it  freely  open  to  the  storm.'  The 
drizzling  rain  had  become  changed  to  flying  sleet 
and  peppering  hail,  borne  upon  sudden  gusts  ;  the 
moon  over  the  mountains  waded  painfully  ;  the 
apple-boughs  began  to  crackle.  '  It  grows  colder  ; 
the  year  will  go  out  like  a  lion.'  And  as  it  was 
too  late  to  replenish  the  fire,  I  took  the  candle  and 
w^ent  to  bed. 

How  pleasant,  when  you  are  snug  and  warm,  to 
hear  the  crusted  branches  rub  the  panes,  or  the  hail 
pelt  against  them  like  fine  shot,  now  and  then  to  be 
varied  by  a  swash — the  roaring  of  the  winds,  which 
makes  the  house  jar  !  So  wore  the  night ;  but  when 
the  morrow's  sun  arose,  it  shone  upon  a  scene  more 
radiant  than  the  one  which  'charmed  the  bid  :'  each 
rounded  hill  a  crystal  dome  ;  the  mountain-corridors 
all  chandeliered  betwixt  their  glassy  walls  ;  the  for- 
est trees  festooned  from  limb   to  limb  with  w^hitest 


UP    THE    RIVER.  109 

wreaths ;  the  steep  declivities  bristling  with  icy  spikes 
sun-tipped,  surn:iounted  by  a  single  star,  and  all  the 
earth  bestrewn  with  untold  wealth,  as  if  the  Ester- 
HAZYs  of  the  realm  had  swept  along,  and  every  bush 
bore  jewels.  Good  my  friend,  I  thought  of  Koh-i- 
noor  !  I  never  saw  such  cold,  yet  radiant  emula- 
tion ;  gem  rivalling  gem,  as  prism  flashed  to  prism. 
The  stalks  stood  up  cased  in  transparent  mail  ;  the 
sun-flower's  head  could  boast  a  gaudier  crown  ;  the 
eaves  were  hung  with  bright  stalactites  ;  while  every 
breeze  shook  down  the  vitreous  tubes,  and  all  the 
avenue  sparkled.  Crystalization  !  what  awondrous 
work  !  At  last  the  sun,  whose  earliest  beams  im- 
bued with  rosy  light  the  powdered  heights  and  col- 
umns of  the  wafted  snows,  rose  paramount,  to  ab- 
sorb all  lesser  glories  in  his  own.  'Fret-work  and 
nonsense  !'  he  appeared  to  say,  '  what's  all  this  tin- 
sel ?'  O  the  sun  !  the  sun  !  centre  of  centres  !  light 
of  lights  !  illumining  the  rounded  shafts  and  col- 
umns which  uphold  the  universe  !  Whether  he 
hangs  above  the  spinning  sphere  and  goes  not  down 
upon  an  artic  summer,  gives  up  the  temperate  zones 
to  ice  and  snow,  or  in  his  zodiac  course,  dividing 
day  and  night,  stands  vertical  above  the  blazing 
belt  which  girts  the  earth,  he  is  too  great  to  tamper 
with  illusion  !     Visions  of  the  night,  the  unreal,  the 


110  UPTHERIVER: 

spectral,  and  the  unsubstantial,  are  dissolved  like 
charms  ;  while  he  alone,  emblem  of  Truth,  stands 
fixed  and  firm,  feeding  his  urn  from  the  Eternal 
source. 

Ye  denizens  of  the  city,  who  think,  no  luxury  like 
that  of  your  well-walled  abodes,  and  only  rusticate 
awhile  in  June,  to  see  the  breakers  beat,  or  to  hear 
the  streams  murmur,  have  you  no  winter-palace  on 
the  rivers,  and  no  homestead  among  the  hills  ?  Come 
out  !  come  out  !  There's  warmth  between  the  am- 
ple jambs.  There  is  beauty  in  the  landscape,  even 
now  ;  and  when  you  go  to  face  the  nipping  air,  you 
shall  behold  a  spectacle  well  worth  the  winter-jaunt. 
Crows'  Nest,  it  is  true,  looks  hoar  and  bleak  ;  gigan- 
tic icicles  are  pendent  from  the  rocks  ;  and  as  you 
walk  through  hemlock  groves,  you  may  chance  to 
come  upon  a  cascade  frozen,  a  water-fall  arrested 
on  the  foaming  brink,  a  mill-flume  clogged,  great 
rocks  and  boulders  crusted  in  the  stream.  There  is 
an  animated  play  upon  the  pond  :  Godenski,  or  the 
Skaters  of  Wilna.  I  for  one  would  not  be  absent 
from  the  fields  to  greet  the  early  spring,  to  hear  the 
blue-bird  carol,  or  the  buds  crack  in  June  ;  and  stiil 
I  love  among  the  snow-clad  hills  and  wintry  vales 
to  see  the  cloudy  banks  and  the  drifts  circling  about 
the  peaks  ;  just  as  in  sweltering  heats  to  watch  the 


UP    THE    RIVER.  HI 

impending  gusts,  to  hear  the  thunders  roll  among 
the  mountains,  to  mark  the  lightnings  as  they  play, 
and  the  effect  of  light  and  shadow.  Here  are  no  little 
theatres  with  tawdry  show,  pasteboard  pictures  ;  but 
most  magnificent,  the  sceneries  stretch  far  and  wide 
in  a  new  phase.  Here  are  no  strings  tight-strained 
to  concert  pitch  :  but  oh  !  the  opera  of  the  winter 
winds,  soon  as  great  Boreas  has  seized  the  baton, 
and  taken  his  seat  in  the  high  North,  commanding 
them  to  blow  high,  to  blow  low,  now  here,  now  there; 
now  screaming  through  scrannel-pipes,  now  hooting 
as  if  the  fiends  kept  concord,  now  rolling  through 
the  wide  gaps,  big  mountain-gulches  with  full,  com- 
manding swell,  then  retreating  to  some  Sistine  cell 
like  a  dying  Miserere. 

My  friend,  it  is  my  way  to  walk  upon  the  porch 
when  first  I  rise,  to  see  the  tintings  of  the  rosy  dawn 
and  hail  the  day.  This  morning,  on  the  sill  of  my 
own  door,  I  looked  upon  a  sad  sight.  Two  flying- 
squirrels  lay  side  by  side,  with  wings  expanded,  frozen 
stark  and  stiff.  The  storm  had  wrenched  the  branch 
that  overlapped  their  cozy  nest,  scattered  the  con- 
tents of  the  full  granary  and  nutty  treasures  of  the 
hollow  tree,  and  they  fell  upon  the  threshold  of  the 
inhospitable  house,  to  be  pinched  by  a  wind  much 
sharper   than  their   little   teeth.     How  often   had  I 


112  UP    THE    RIVLR. 

seen  them  in  the  apple-orchard  glide  from  the  sum- 
mit of  the  blossoming  bough,  taking  the  benefit  of 
some  chance  zephyr,  down  to  the  distant  trunk  nick- 
ed into  round  holes  by  the  iterating  strokes  of  red- 
headed wood-pecker !  How  often  had  I  watched 
them  slant  their  downy  sails  in  air,  admired 
their  sloping  descent,  and  swift,  yet  gradual  alight- 
ment,  enough  to  breed  a  rumpling  jealousy  among 
the  feathers  !  But  when  they  picked  a  nut  with 
delicate  skill,  and  chiselled  out  the  oily  shavings, 
making  a  carriage  for  Queen  Mab,  '  Give  the  prize,' 
I  said,  '  to  the  fairies'  coach-makers.'  Creatures  of 
grace  i  how  different  from  the  church-haunting  bats  ! 
In  school-boy  days,  with  a  slight  silver  chain  about 
their  necks,  I  have  seen  them  nestle  in  the  bosom 
of  amorous  boys.  Petted  into  assurance,  I  have 
known  them  build  their  nest  in  a  lady's  work-box. 
The  change  from  life  to  death,  methinks,  presents 
no  stronger  contrast  than  among  the  gracefuller  and 
more  agile  animals.  The  fawn  just  glancing  in  your 
path,  and  the  aerial  picture  of  the  deer  just  vanished 
like  a  shadow,  the  gliding  of  the  glossy  swallow,  the 
spiritual  beauty  of  the  little  squirrel,  how  different 
from  the  dull  and  lumpish  forms  when  the  electri- 
city of  life  has  fled  ! 


UPTHERIVER.  113 

January,  Ist,  18-53 
It  is  the  opinion  of  some  author,  whose  name  and 
whose  exact  words  I  am  unable  to  recall,  that  fixed 
holidays  and  festivals  are  not  salutary.  '  Let  the 
young,'  says  he,  *  be  taught  to  draw  their  happiness 
from  the  present,  Let  them  make  the  most  of  that 
which  now  is.  To  be  looking  forward  or  backward 
to  some  day  christened  '  happy'  or  '  merry,'  is  enough 
to  breed  disaffection  to  vulgar  time,  and  bring  a  por- 
tion of  the  calendar  into  disrespect.'  A  worse  ar- 
gument, or  a  colder,  icier  tit-bit  of  philosophy,  was 
never  set  forth.  On  what  pinnacle  of  Reason  does 
this  Plato  dwell,  feeding  on  ether,  and  overlooking 
the  wants  of  common  men?  Is  he  wiser  than  Solo- 
mon ?  Imagine  all  the  little  boys  in  round-abouts 
throughout  the  world  trained  up  by  ar])itrary  injunc- 
tion to  be  happy  the  whole  time  !  Christmas  is  com- 
ing. What  of  that,  my  dear  little  fellows  ?  Every 
day  is  alike.  There  is  no  such  being  as  Santa 
Claus,  and  never  has  been  since  chimneys  were 
built.  As  to  his  clattering  on  the  tiles  with  prancers, 
it  is  untrue.  He  is  nowhere  seen  but  in  pictures, 
nor  extolled  except  in  the  world-renowned  poem  of 
Clement  C.  Moore,  who  has  thus  turned  his  imag- 
ination   to    bad    account.     Attend   to   your    books  ! 


114  UP    THE    RIVER. 

Stop  drawing  the  devil  on  your  slates  !  Imagine,  I 
say,  all  the  solemn  little  urchins  in  a  row,  hemmed 
in  by  the  dead  walls  of  the  school-room,  and  with 
nothing  before  them  but  an  opaque  black-board, 
would  they  not  become  saffron  and  cadaverous  as 
the  money-getting  men  whose  year  is  not  even 
bright-speckled  by  Sundays,  and  is  like  a  monoto- 
nous dream  of  dollars  broken  in  two  by  the  explosion 
of  Fourth-of-July  cannon  and  snapping-crackers  ? 
What  if  anticipation  were  abolished,  and  the  memory 
of  past  joys  were  no  longer  sweet  ?  I  hate  such 
heresies  as  much  as  I  can  hate  anything  w^hen  the 
year  is  span  new.  Blessed  be  the  illuminated  peaks 
of  time,  sun-gilt  and  temple-crowned,  precious  Ne- 
boes  !  Plodding  through  the  dull  hours,  over  the 
dead  flats  of  a  weary  life,  over  the  sharp  rocks  of 
arduous  duty  and  responsibility,  from  the  deep  gulfs 
of  dejection,  we  see  the  bright  hill-tops  ahead.  Then 
does  the  drooping  wing  become  like  the  golden  fea- 
thers of  a  dove.  Sweet  be  the  vales  which  lie  beyond, 
from  which  w'e  look  back  upon  the  rosy  hours  of 
the  eve,  the  sumptuous  light  of  the  setting  sun  I 

Instead  of  having  no  festivals,  we  have  need  of 
more  in  a  poverty-stricken  calendar.  The  days  will 
not  be  jealous  of  each  other.  Whoever  heard  of  a 
fight   between   Monday  and  Tuesday  ?     For  current 


UP    THE    RIVER.  115 

time  will  divide  itself  into  eras — days  marked  by  a 
while  stone,  anniversaries  of  joy  or  sorrow — which 
we  will  at  least  secretly   cherish   as   they  pass    by. 
Human  nature  knows  its  own  wants,  and  the  recog- 
nition of  birth-days  is  founded  in  its  holiest  and  best 
laws  ;  and  if  a  wicked  Utilitarianism   should   erase 
the   Golden  Letters,    abrogate   feasts,    and  untwine 
the  festive  garlands  from  the  happiest    of  them  all, 
the   very    act    would   constitute  a  bad  anniversary. 
These  remembrances  are  the  very  sentiment  of  life, 
and    encroach    upon    the    inroads    of    an    essential 
worldliness.     I  think  that  joy  is  not  less  sacred  than 
sorrow  ;    the    one    with  its  coronals,  the  other  with 
its  sable  weeds,  its  cypress  and   its    rosemary  ;    and 
each  has  its  times  and  seasons  and  outward  tokens. 
There    is    nothing    good    in   the    world  without  its 
tokens.  No  man  liveth  to  himself,  and  no  man  dieth 
to   himself.     Who  likes  to  be  glad  in  a  corner,  let- 
ting his  stomach  dimple   with   a   stingy,    chuckling, 
gurgling  giggle  ?     It    is  perfectly    amazing   to   me, 
that   so-called   good   people   have   taken  up   such  a 
horrid  antipathy  to  all  kinds  of  festive  customs  and 
recreations   which   have   sprung  up  in  the  ordinary 
progress  of  society  ;    and  they  will  snap  the  knitted 
hands    of  rosy  children  in  an  innocent  dance  to  the 
sound  of  a  viol,  while  they  cannot  shake  a  material 


116  UP    THE    RIVER. 

lash  over  the  subtle,  sordid,  immaterial  spirit  of 
greed  and  lust  of  gain.  They  will  say,  '  Can  you 
go  from  these  things  to  your  bended  knees  V 
And  wherefore  not  ?  let  us  ask.  For  even  the 
wildest  hilarity,  which  is  to  be  condemned,  excludes 
for  the  time  being  the  gnawing  worm  of  envy,  ma- 
lignities, and  carking  cares,  unchristian  discontent, 
and  cursed  feuds.  And  I  once  told  a  wrangling 
religious  neighbourhood,  that  it  w^ould  give  me 
pleasure  to  see  them  get  up  a  furious  horse-race, 
which  I  had  never  yet  had  the  curiosity  to  witness, 
and  bet  as  heavily  as  they  liked  ;  for  I  thought  that 
the  improvement  of  the  breed  of  horses  was  perhaps 
a  false  argument  for  that  kind  of  sport,  but  it  might 
be  an  improvement  to  the  breed  of  men.  Do  not 
imagine  that  I  am  retained  as  counsel  for  the  Union 
Course,  or  that  I  am  a  candidate  for  a  jockey-club. 
I  live  quietly  in  a  little  house  in  the  country,  one 
story  and  a  half  high,  from  which  I  do  not  even 
sally  upon  a  fox-chase  ;  but  look  out  of  the  win- 
dow, and  'scrutinize'  what  is  going  on  in  the 
world,  sometimes  gaily,  and  sometimes  with  a  more 
prevailing  sadness,  but  always  with  good  will  to 
men.  A  notion  like  the  above  I  cannot  help  asso- 
ciating with  the  sleekness  of  hypocrisy,  and  think 
that  the  abettors  of  it  are  essentially  worldly-mind- 


UP    THE    RIVE  R.  117 

ed.  Bui  out  of  whatever  system  it  may  spring,  it 
is  wrong  and  false  and  bad,  throwing  a  doubt  and  a 
suspicion  over  things  which  ouglit  to  be  as  free 
from  these  as  the  rose  just  wetted  with  the  dews. 
It  gives  false  viewis  of  life,  spreads  a  colour  of  jaun- 
dice over  a  blonde  Innocence,  skims  off  the  rich 
cream  from  our  daily  cup,  leaving  a  blue,  sickly 
pool  beneath.  And  to  be  fed  from  the  rocking- 
cradle  with  this  kind  of  mother's  milk,  is  enough  to 
sour  the  hopefullest  infant,  the  sweetest  suckling — 
animosus  infans  non  sine  Dis — to  an  adult  devil  in 
time  to  come.  From  innate  feeling,  and  from  asso- 
ciation, and  from  observation,  and  from  reason,  and 
from  reflection,  and  from  cultivation,  I  have  learned 
to  hate  such  notions,  and  I  do  now  most  heartily, 
as  much  as  I  can  hate  any  thing  when  the  yea?'  is 
span  neiv.  I  do  not  believe  that  those  who  hold 
them  are  capable  of  enjoying  existence  as  God  in- 
tended it  to  be  enjoyed.  '  Because  they  are  pious, 
do  they  think  there  shall  be  no  more  cakes  and 
ale  V 

1  wish  you  could  have  been  with  me  on  Christ- 
mas eve.  It  was  a  misty,  dank,  ungenial  time  with- 
out :  there  were  no  layers  of  snow  upon  the  hem- 
locks ;  there  were  no  piping  winds  and  snapping 
cold,  such  as  we  consider  not  unpleasant  or  unsea- 


118  UP    THE    HIVER. 

sonable  for  the  time.  There  is  an  ancient  home- 
stead on  the  river's  brink,  large,  hereditary,  full  of 
comfort,  rich  in  reminiscence.  TAere  was  the  order 
of  the  Cincinnati  formed.  Over  against  those 
jambs,  novr  blazing  with  cheerful  light,  they  sat  and 
mused,  those  venerable  men,  in  days  which  tried 
men's  souls,  and  on  the  walls  the  choice  and  mellow- 
pictures  of  Copley  may  be  seen,  and  portraits  of 
those  who  belonged  to  past  generations.  Oh  ! 
what  a  beautiful,  full-length  likeness  of  a  boy  is 
there.  Largely  enclosed  with  fertile  acres,  the 
house  stands  yet  with  uncorrupted  timbers,  and 
with  snug,  warm  roof  to  overlook  the  classical  do- 
minion. Here  for  an  hundred  years  the  Christmas 
day  has  not  gone  by  without  a  merry  meeting,  and 
urchinal  laughter  enough  to  make  the  walls  crack. 
Now  as  I  sat  at  the  festal  board,  and  in  due  course 
of  time  saw  the  Boar's  head  brought  in,  a  host  of 
pleasant  fancies  came  over  me.  Merry  Old  Eng- 
land !  I  thought  of  thee,  thou  green  isle  of  the 
ocean,  but  my  mind  reverted  not  to  feudal  halls, 
but  holy  homes.  Picture  of  pictures  !  could  we 
peep  within,  what  groupings  of  youth  and  beauty 
on  this  day  in  that  favored  land  !  The  rich  red 
blood  of  chivalric  times  still  courses  as  if  it  had 
just  gushed  from  the  original  fount.  Olden  usage 
is  not  yet  dead.     Keep  up  the   time-honoured  cus- 


UP    THE    mVER.  119 

toms.  "Reflect,  like  true  philosophers,  how  much  of 
our  happiness  we  owe  to  little  things.  Chase  not 
away  those  bright  smiles  from  the  faces  of  the 
young,  because  the  cheeks  now  radiant  with  anima 
tion  have  in  days  gone  by,  as,  alas  !  they  will  be 
yet  again,  trickled  over  by  tears. 

Of  all  festivals  in  the  year,  Christmas  is  most 
looked  for  with  eager  joy.  Short  as  the  days  of 
December  are,  the  approach  of  the  season  brings 
with  it  a  contagious  joy.  All  classes  feel  it,  and  it 
appears  to  me  when  the  day  comes,  that  there  are 
no  such  men  as  Turks,  Jews,  Heretics  and  Infidels. 
Again  in  the  air  we  hear  the  sweet  echoes  of  the 
angels'  chorus,  '  Peace  on  earth,  good-will  to  all 
mankind.' 

A  merry  Christmas  !  Who  will  be  so  sour  as  to 
think  the  epithet  is  ill-applied  ?  For  now  we  take 
back  the  wandering  prodigals  once  more  to  our 
hearts;  the  erring  or  the  ungrateful  who  have 
strayed  far  from  our  genuine  love.  It  is  meet  that 
we  should  make  merry  and  be  glad.  But  how  much 
more  when  we  are  commanded  by  the  voice  of  God, 
since  now  His  only  Son,  who  was  no  prodigal,  but 
who  was  recovered  from  the  '  far  country  '  of  the 
grave,  appears  to  visit  again  the  bereaved  earth  ! 
'  It  is  meet  that  we  should  make  merry  and  be  glad, 
for  this  my  Son  was  dead,  and  is  alive   again  ,   was 


120  UP    THE    RIVER. 

lost,  and  is  found.'  Now  is  the  season  of  gifts 
And  what  more  precious,  what  more  fairy-like  in 
the  tenure  of  its  boon,  than  a  heart-given  gift  ?  Dig 
out  a  lump  of  gold  from  the  rich  earth  ;  get  it  by- 
hard  toil  betwixt  the  day-light  and  the  dark  ;  and 
it  is  dull,  lack-lustre  lead,  in  comparison.  You  can 
lock  it ;  you  can  grasp  it  ;  you  can  gloat  over  it ;  but 
can  you  smile-weep  over  it,  as  if  it  came  from  an 
angel  in  the  skies  ?  What  if  it  be  a  booklet,  stamp- 
ed upon  its  pure  leaves  with  the  delicate  creations 
of  art  and  with  the  lovely  fancies  of  a  poet  ?  A 
Spencer,  a  Donne,  a  Herbert,  a  Waller,  a  Shakspeare, 
a  Rogers,  a  Bryant  !  What  if  it  be  rather  a  holy 
book  of  prayer  ?  Lay  it  up  among  the  archives, 
among  the  arcana,  in  the  treasure-house  of  pleasant 
things,  where  the  thief  shall  never  steal  it  from  your 
possession,  and  the  dust  of  forgetfulness  shall  never 
cover  it ! 

But  behold,  the  Christmas-tree  has  up-sprung  with 
a  magic  growth.  It  is  no  twig,  no  bushlet,  no 
crooked,  gnarled,  ugly  branch,  wrenched  off  in 
haste  or  tossed  aside  by  the  Boreal  winds,  but  a 
veritable,  ample,  bright-leaved  tree,  culled  with  the 
choicest  care  from  the  heart  of  the  woods  ;  and  no 
sooner  is  it  implanted  in  the  ample  drawing-room, 
laden  with  its  treasures  and  blazing  with  innumer- 
able waxen  tapers,  than  a  juvenile  band  bursts  through 


UP    THE    RIVER.  121 

the  hitherto  enclosed  barriers,  and  dances  round  it 
with  uproarous  merriment  : 

'  Come,  knit  hands  and  beat  the  ground 
In  a  light  fantastic  t  ound.' 

Never  with  more  earnest  zest  could  the  golden  fruit 
be  picked  in  the  gardens  of  the  Hesperides.  The 
rosy-footed  Jenny  abounds  in  presents,  and  baskets 
filled  with  sugar-plums  are  pendent  from  her  plump 
arms  ;  Crom  and  Bob  and  Annie  and  Mary  are  so 
endowed  and  decorated  that  Crcesus  was  not  more 
rich.  The  fruitage-bearing  boughs  shake  down  their 
treasures  for  the  old  and  young. 

There  is  a  bright  stretch  of  days  between  merry 
Christmas  and  New  Year's,  like  a  gulf  between  two 
hills  filled  with  sun.  On  New  Year's  eve  it  was 
a  pleasant  spectacle  to  see  once  more  assembled 
the  same  happy  troop,  the  rosy-footed  Jenny  beam- 
ing with  smiles  as  in  a  halo  of  light.  At  midnight, 
when  the  watches  were  compared,  and  they  were 
seeing  the  old  year  out,  the  young  people  got  hold 
of  all  the  bells  in  the  house,  down  to  one  composed 
of  the  metal  of  ancient  Trinity.  Well,  it  is  only 
once  a  year.  Bonum  est  desipere  in  loco.  But 
when  the  sounds  had  ceased,  and  sleep  came  down 
on  juvenile  lids,  and  midnight  shed  her  essential 
stillness  on  the  scene,  we  stood  before  the  blazing 


122  UP    THE    HI  YE  11. 

hearth,  W.  and  I,  and  spoke  of  Charles.  Could 
any  one  like  he  embalm  such  memories  ?  Oh  ! 
when  I  think  of  him  as  one  writing  with  a  dove's 
(j[uill  dipped  in  the  very  humours  of  his  dear 
heart,  picturing  those  tender  fancies,  those  match- 
less portraits,  those  indefinable  graces  which  only 
yielded  to  the  transfer  of  his  power,  I  am  ready 
to  snap  the  ink-drops  from  this  pen  of  mine,  and  go 
and  drop  a  tear  upon  his  tomb.  Never  did  the  rills 
of  thought  wear  themselves  through  so  sweetly  a 
romantic  channel.  Here  there  is  a  bower  to  rest  in  ; 
there  I  see  the  blue  sky,  or  bank-side  flowers, 
mirrored  in  the  pool ;  then  again  the  agitation  of 
the  sweet  water.  But  oh  !  that  Essay  on  the  New 
Year  !  '  We  will  read  it,'  said  W.  Then  com- 
menced a  long  search  upon  the  well-filled  shelves. 
In  vain  the  candle  was  held  now  low  among  the 
ponderous  tomes  of  rich  divinity  and  classic  lore  ; 
in  vain  high  up  to  the  aerial  realms  of  metaphysics 
and  the  Aldine  bards.  I  saw  a  record  to  the  fame 
of  stately  Johnson  ;  I  glanced  upon  the  polished 
wit  of  Addison  ;  I  read  the  names  of  Wycherly 
and  CoNGREVE,  golden-lettered ;  but  Lamb,  with 
all  his  subtle  charms,  lay  hid.  Nay,  do  not  flare 
the  candle  to  the  right.  Beaumont  and  Fletcher  ! 
My   word  for   it  now,  that  Charles  cannot  be  far. 


UP     THE     RIVER, 


123 


And  sure  enough.  In  meek, seclusion,  deferring  in 
his  modest  merits  to  more  sounding  names,  he  stood 
apart.  With  a  sort  of  triumph  we  bore  him  to  the 
cheerful  hearth,  and  with  his  charming  page  beguil- 
ed ourselves  until  the  peep  of  dawn,  to  hear  him 
moralize  in  his  own  way,  and  to  listen  to  his  own 
words  flowina:  like  a  silver  stream. 


IX. 


January,  1S53. 


just 
how 


LIKE  to  look  out  of 
the  window  over  the 
corn-fields,    and    see 
the     black     phalanx 
of    crows     wheeling 
through  the  misty  air, 
and  laboriously,  with 
a  slow  regularity  of 
movement,     flapping 
their    ebon    plumes. 
They  go  in  discordant 
-  companies,       helter- 
1^  skelter  ;    some    high, 
some  low  ;  some  hov- 
ering  over  the   near 
corn-stack,        others 
appearing  in  sight  over   the   mountain   crests  : 
different  from  the  graceful  wavelet,  the  orderly 


UP    THE     RIVER.  125 

procession  of  geese,  or  long-necked  swans,  which 
are  seen  like  a  line  of  Professor  Anthon's  manu- 
script in  the  sky  !  There  is  no  order  about  them  : 
every  crow  for  himself,  and  let  those  who  come  last 
feed  at  the  side-table.  'Caw!  caw!  caw!'  This 
sound  so  discordant,  seems  to  me  like  the  cry  of 
famine  in  mid-air  in  a  desolate  land. 

The  forage  must  be  poor  enough.  The  fat  earth- 
worm lies  low  down  beneath  the  frozen  clod,  turned 
up  no  longer  by  the  garden  spade,  and  unattainable 
by  the  pickaxe  ;  the  grubs  have  vanished  from  the 
waving  corn  ;  the  winged  insects  of  summer  no 
more  find  their  sepulchre  in  the  red  throats  of  birds; 
while  every  vestige  of  food  is  buried  deep  under  the 
winter  snows  and  slabs  of  solid  ice.  The  base  of 
the  pyramidal  corn-stacks  may  yield  a  few  grains 
and  some  carrion  by  the  way-side  some  choice  pick- 
ing ;  otherwise  it  fares  ill  wdth  the  old  crow.  Al- 
though he  wears  a  respectable  suit  of  black,  yet  how 
he  lives  God  knows,  'Who  feedeth  the  young  ra- 
vens when  they  cry."  1  am  acquainted  with  a  rook- 
ery on  Long-Island,  where  myriads  of  crows  come 
home  to  roost  every  night.  By  break  of  day,  with 
immense  cawing  and  preliminary  flappings,  they 
move  off  to  the  sea-shore  to  pay  a  visit  to  the  gulls, 
the  cranes,   the  old-wives,  ihe  loons,  the   coots,  the 


1 20  U  P    T  H  E    R  I  \'  E  R 

devil-divers,  the  wild  duck,  liie  lelering  sjiipe,  arid 
to  gorge  their  stomachs  ^vith  the  sol't-shelled  clams. 
Toward  sun-down,  they  go  back  to  J^loyd's  Neck 
in  black  clouds,  which  darken  the  air;  and  as  they 
bungle  about,  and  jostle  each  other  in  the  grove, 
the  dead  limbs  crackle  as  if  shaken  by  a  north-east 
storm  ;  while  the  noise  which  they  make  in  settling 
down,  their  vociferous  barter  in  the  exchange  of 
roostings,  the  shower  of  dry  sticks  and  rubbish,  and 
the  almost  articulate  talk  of  the  airy  l)ed-fe]lows 
before  they  sleep,  saying, 

'  Caw — caw — cawn  —  aw' — cawn—  awn — awn'n. 
Aw  -jaw — gaw'n  — awrt'r — corn — awn'e  — mawn'n  ?' 

'  Are — you — going — after — corn  — in  the  —morning  r' 

are  really — 'wunnerful.' 

At  last  they  put  their  heads  under  their  wings, 
while  the  still  blacker  bed-quilt  of  the  night  tucks 
them  in  and  is  drawn  over  them.  Great  is  the  con- 
sternation of  the  birds  if  startled  in  their  sleep  by 
the  explosion  of  mischievous  artillery.  For  if  the 
fifuests  at  Lloyd's  Manor,  or  a  boat's  crew  from  the 
yacht  in  Huntington  Harbor,  choose  to  make  a  noc- 
turnal visit  to  blow  off  their  fowling  pieces  in  the 
grove,  '  my  sakes  a-massy  !'  how  the  black  down 
does    fly  !      Roused     out    of   their    carrion-pictured 


UP    THE    RlVEHr.  127 

dreams,  they  wheel  in  contracted  circles  ;  they  tot- 
tle  about  in  the  dark,  fly  plump  against  each  other, 
and  crack  their  bills  together,  and  get  their  plumes 
interlocked  at  the  thighs,  while  the  whole  phalanx 
is  staggered  and  becomes  confused.  This  is  unfair 
play,  0  ye  guests  of  the  Manor,  and  O  ye  sailors 
from  the  yacht  !  To  come  within  gun-shot  of  Jaco- 
bus Crow  by  day-light,  requires  a  sneaking  erudi- 
tion, not  easily  attained.  After  you  have  crept  along 
the  hedge  in  the  most  humbly  crouching-position, 
say  for  a  quarter  of  a  mile,  and  are  within  a  hun- 
dred yards  of  the  spot  from  which  you  think  it  would 
be  judicious  to  take  a  crack,  you  will  see  the  senti- 
nel-bird, who  stands  ready  to  sound  the  alarm  in 
good  time,  slowly  set  his  wings  in  motion,  as  when 
the  wheels  of  a  steam-boat  take  their  preliminary 
turns,  and  off  he  flops,  with  a  '  caw  !  caw  !'  repeated 
on  all  hands  by  the  black  guards  Such  is  the  na- 
ture of  these  feathered  negroes,  these  Africans  of 
the  air,  who,  as  regards  colonizing,  have  a  constitu- 
tion and  by-laws  of  their  own,  lest  the  breed  of  crows 
should  run  out,  and  jet  black  should  become  an  un- 
known color  in  a  tawdry  world.  In  vain,  then,  are 
those  cast-off"  breeches  stuff'ed  with  straw,  and  those 
old  coats,  out  at  the  elbows,  stuck  up  in  the  middle 
of  the  fields,  to  be   a  bug-a-boo  to  the  younglings. 


128  UP    THE    III  \  ER. 

and  rob  the  craws  of  the  hungry  of  a  few  germinat- 
ing grains.  It  is,  beside,  a  moot-point  whether  the 
exterminating  policy  be  not  bad  for  the  corn,  because 
the  question  lies  in  the  kernel,  and  concerns  the  re- 
spective destructiveness  of  carrion-crow,  green  worm, 
and  old  grub.  So  many  woodpeckers  have  been 
shot  off  since  the  invention  of  percussion-caps,  and 
so  many  indeed  of  all  the  flighty  tribe  who  delve  in 
the  wormy  barks,  that  fruit-trees  languish,  and  all 
the  crops  are  affected  with  blight.  I  take  it  for 
granted  that  a  man  is  seized  of  the  fee-simple  of  his 
birds  as  well  as  his  land,  and  I  should  bring  an  ac- 
tion for  trespass  against  any  one  who  took  the  life 
of  my  M-Qod-peckers  or  my  crows.  For  myself  I 
would  not  aim  a  gun  at  a  crow,  for  fear  that  I  should 
miss  the  mark  in  more  senses  than  one,  and  that  he 
should  '  wheel  about'  upon  me,  enveloped  in  smoke 
and  stunned  with  noise,  with  the  somewhat  harsh 
sarcasm  of  '  caw^  !   caw  !' 

The  other  clay,  after  visiting  a  maimed  man,  I  fell 
in  with  a  poor  young  crow,  wounded  in  one  wing, 
and  skipping  in  a  lop-sided  manner  on  the  skirts  of 
a  hedge.  I  caught  him  after  a  hard  chase  over  the 
stubble-fields,  intending  to  take  him  home  and  in- 
struct him  in  the  first  rudiments  of  the  Saxon  tonsfue. 
1  thought  that  he  could  make  the  green  parrot  blush 


UP    THE    RIVER.  129 

for  his  elocution  ;  and  in  case  his  progress  were  re- 
spectable, I  would  christen  him  McCaw  ;  after 
which  I  would  be  a  Roland  for  an  Oliver,  should 
any  one  shoot  my  McCaw.  But  he  had  imbibed  no- 
lions  of  abolition  in  his  own  free  element,  or  perhaps 
from  hovering  around  the  confines  of  Uncle  Tom's 
Cabin.  He  clutched  my  breast  and  picked  my 
hands  with  the  ferocity  of  a  young  vulture  ;  and 
when  I  set  him  down,  such  an  overturning  did  he 
make  among  the  tin-kettles  and  cullenders  of  the 
kitchen,  that  I  opened  the  door  and  turned  him  loose 
upon  the  '  wide,  wide  world.'  O  thou  recuperative 
Nature,  bind  up  his  wounds  ! 

Exceedingly  picturesque  in  the  winter  landscape, 
is  the  crow  sitting  on  a  leafless  bougli  of  the  hoarv 
oak,  (itself  a  striking  object  of  the  scene,)  when  the 
ground  is  covered  with  a  mantle  of  the  chastest 
snow.  He  is  at  present  almost  the  only  bird  we 
have  ;  nor  is  his  voice,  though  harsh,  untimely,  now 
that  the  mellower  songsters  of  the  grove  are  hushed. 
For  when  welcome  Blue-Bird  comes  no  more  to 
greet  the  early  spring,  nor  skimming  Swallow  flits 
before  the  door  ;  when  Robin  Red-Breast  has  ceas- 
ed to  chant  his  roundelay,  and  Cui'pin'-Bird  to 
gather  crumbs  upon  the  walk  ;  when  the  small  Wren 
has   flitted   from   his  accustomed   nest,    leaving   the 


130  UPT  HE    RIVER. 

dry  straw  within  the  roofed  and  windowed  house  in 
which  two  rival  architectures  have  been  combined  ; 
when  Thrush  departs,  and  Bobolink  has  trilled  his 
parting  strain,  and  when  the  summer  sky  no  lon- 
ger blossoms  with  the  wings  of  butterflies,  and 
all  the  pictured  fleet  of  little  rovers  have  sailed 
away  to  cruise  in  warmer  gulf-streams  of  the  aerial 
altitudes,  cutting  the  thin  wave  of  the  navigable  air, 
welcome  ye  black  unmitigated  plumes,  combed  into 
smoothness  by  the  sharp-toothed  winds,  glossy  in  the 
light  of  the  slant  December  sun  !  O  thou  most  suitable 
adjunct  of  bleakness,  statuesque  Crow  !  carved  as 
from  a  chunk  of  that  material  Egyptian  darkness 
which  could  be  felt  !  I  sometimes  think  of  one  who 
inscribed  a  poem  with  a  quill  plucked  from  the  Ra- 
ven's wing,  writing  with  supra-mortal  eloquence,  his 
spirit  veloped  m  majestic,  solemn  gloom,  as  of  the 
spirit-land.     Edgar  '  thou   art  the  world  of  shades. 


U  P    THE    RIVER  131 

Jacobus  Crow  likes  to  stray  away  from  his  flock 
by  twilight,  and  be  alone.  I  have  seen  him  at  that 
hour  on  the  top  of  a  corn-stack,  (with  perhaps  a 
group  of  his  fellows  on  an  adjacent  tree,  dotting  a 
limb  as  with  black  blossoms,)  or  on  the  off-shoots  of 
a  decaying  stump,  on  a  twig  of  which  a  little  round 
screech-owl  has  just  hopped,  while  the  barn-yard 
fowls  have  perched  for  the  night  upon  its  lateral 
branches,  looking  about  on  the  cold  scene,  as  if 
reflecting  on  the  immortality  of  a  crow's  soul.  Un- 
disturbed by  the  tinkling  sleigh-bells,  he  stands  mo- 
tionless in  his  reverie.  It  is  the  time  to  be  filled 
with  solemn  thought.  Darkness  is  creeping  on,  and 
shadow  is  overlapped  with  thickening  shadow. 
Hard  by,  in  the  farm-yard,  the  ruminating  cow  is 
chewing  I  know  not  what  cud  of  reflection.  Owl 
and  Crow  appear  to  commune  together. 

'  Can  you  see  ?'  says  Africanus. 

*  My  eyes  !  yes  :   that  is  my  vocation.' 

*  Can  you  tell  ?nc,  by-and-by,  from  the  brocade 
of  the  night  V 

No  answer, 

'  Speak,  Ulul,  and  join  me  in  a  bit  of  psalmody 
for  the  benefit  of  yon  farmhouse,  before  the  curtain 
of  the  night  comes  down.' 

'Tu-whit!  to-whoo !      Tu-whit-tu-whoo!' 

'  Caw!  caw  !  caw  !  caw  !'  Exeunt  omnes. 


132  UP    THE    IIIVER. 

Come,  friends,  this  is  '  Bleak  House'  to-night,  so 
far  as  the  outward  aspect  is  concerned.  The  winds 
how] — the  roof  is  covered  with  snow.  Gather  round 
the  stove-pipe,  and  while  you  sip  a  little  of  this  hot- 
spiced  cider,  and  partake  of  this  popped  corn,  these 
nuts,  and  pippins  of  an  approved  juice,  I  will  tell 
you  a  story,  called 


VANDERDONK: 

A     LEGEND      OF      CROW      HILL. 

Far  back  in  the  misty  period  of  an  heroic  age, 
there  lived  upon  the  summit  of  the  Crow-Hiil  an 
honest  Dutchman,  entitled  Vanderdonk.  He  bought 
the  spot,  with  all  its  rugged  acres  and  stubborn 
glebe,  with  guilders  earned  by  hard  tugging  in  the 
Father-land.  But  the  Dutch  guilders  were  by  no 
means  buried  without  interest  in  the  vaults  of  this 
rocky  bank.  The  golden  grain  waved  year  after 
year  upon  the  sloping  hill-sides,  and  by  the  time 
that  his  belly  became  portly,  Vanderdonk  had  be- 
come rich.  He  minded  his  own  business,  and  sel- 
dom spoke  except  when  spoken  to,  and  then  in 
grunting  affirmative,  '  Yaw,  yaw.'     He  was  the  pic- 


UP    THE    RIVER.  133 

ture  of  dogged  resolution,  as  he  was  seen  in  relief 
over  against  the  sky  on  Crow  Hill  ;  whacking  with 
a  long  goad  the  frontal  bones  of  the  thick-kneed 
oxen — always  slowly  plodding,  but  surely  gaining. 
The  shadow  of  his  capacious  barns  swallowed  up 
his  snug  little  house,  which  was  all  kitchen.  For 
he  had  a  fancy  to  eke  out  barns  WMth  hovels,  and 
hovels  with  long  sheds,  making  a  sunny  court,  or 
hollow  square,  wherein  a  multitude  of  chickens 
ransacked  the  chaff  at  the  heels  of  the  thoughtful 
kine.  It  was  astonishing  by  what  slow,  and  just, 
and  imperceptible  degrees,  his  riches  grew.  For  it 
was  scarcely  noticed  when  he  drove  in  an  additional 
nail,  or  extended  an  enclosure,  till  all  at  once  the 
neighbours,  looking  upon  the  circumvallation  about 
Crow  Hill,  opened  their  eyes,  as  if  awakened  from 
a  dream,  and  exclaimed,  '  He's  rich  !' 

Behold  him,  then,  at  the  height  of  prosperity, 
while  all  around  his  harvests  waved  ;  his  cabbages 
were  marshalled  in  rows  and  compact  regiments  ; 
his  cattle  lowed ;  his  hens  cackled  ;  his  ducks 
clucked  ;  his  pigeons  cooed.     Poor  Vanderdonk  ! 

'HoNNES  had  an  only  son  named  Derrick,  a  half- 
crazy,  half-idiotic,  queer  boy,  who  could  not  be 
trained  up  to  follow  the  ploughshare,  and  did  exact- 
ly as  he  pleased.      As  he  verged  toward  his  majori- 


134  UP    THE     RIVER. 

ty,  and  showed  no  signs  of  advance  in  intellect,  but 
rather  received  reinforcements  of  the  queer  devils 
by  which  he  was  occasionally  possessed,  his  future 
prospects  occupied  no  small  portion  of  the  reflect- 
ing moments  of  Vanderdonk,  as  he  smolced  his 
evening  pipe  on  the  porch.  He  and  his  wife  were 
beginning  to  be  well  stricken  in  years.  What 
should  he  do  Avith  Crow  Hill,  and  to  whom  devise 
his  estate  in  trust  for  his  son,  who  was  totally  unfit 
to  manage  his  affairs  ?  When  this  thought  had  given 
Hans  sufficient  perplexity  for  the  time  being,  he 
filled  up  another  pipe,  and  got  rid  of  the  subject  by 
thinking — of  nothing  !  Now  this  boy  brought  him 
into  sad  trouble  at  this  period,  by  an  unfortunate 
adventure,  which  I  shall  relate. 

Among  the  flocks  of  crows  which  wheeled  inces- 
santly, in  summer  and  winter,  above  his  dominion, 
and  from  which  Crow  Hill  derived  its  name,  Hans 
waged  a  continual  war.  A  hundred  bits  of  tin, 
wood,  and  looking-glass  fluttered  at  the  ends  of 
long  strings,  attached  to  poles,  in  the  corn-fields 
Numerous  scare-crows  were  set  up,  as  horrible  as 
could  be  invented  by  the  imagination  of  Hans. 
Moreover,  as  occasion  offered,  he  made  a  successful 
shot  with  a  long  gun  with  a  big-flinted,  queer  lock, 
which  had  belonged  to  his  grand-father  in  Holland, 


UP    THE    RIVER.  135 

and  had  descended  to  him  as  an  heir-loom.  Some- 
times he  made  the  crows  drunk  on  corn  soaked  in 
whiskey,  and  as  they  reeled  about  the  hillocks, 
knocked  them  on  the  head. 

But  there  w-as  one  crow,  almost  white,  and  said 
to  be  a  century  old,  held  sacred  by  the  neighbours 
as  an  Egyptian  Ibis.  He  walked  almost  undistin- 
guished among  the  pigeons,  by  which  association 
his  nature  had  become  tamed,  and  his  harsh  caw 
was  at  last  modified  into  a  melting  coo.  The  neigh- 
bours had  frequently  said,  '  Vanderdonk,  don't 
shoot  that  bird,'  and  Honnes  religiously  obeyed  the 
mandate,  and  regarded  his  guest  wuth  a  partial  eye  ; 
for  he  had  been  told  that  ill-luck  would  be  sure  to 
attend  him  the  moment  that  he  meditated  the  des- 
truction of  the  crow.  The  sentiment  of  superstition 
is  not  the  offspring  of  stolidity,  but  he  resolved  to 
be  on  the  safe  side,  while  his  wife  treated  the  bird 
with  a  religious  respect.  This  ancient  visiter,  whom 
the  very  king-birds  forbore  to  pick  at,  out  of  vener- 
ation, was  known  by  the  familiar  name  of  Jimmy, 
and  happy  was  he  who  in  a  cold  winter,  would 
put  in  his  way  a  few  liberal  handfuls  of  corn. 

One  day,  Derrick,  in  one  of  his  wild  moods  took 
the  long  gun  from  the  corner  of  the  kitchen,  and 
strayed  away.     He  did  not  return  at  high  noon  to 


136  UP    THE     RIVE  11. 

get  his  dinner,  but  toward  sun-down,  just  as  the  old 
woman  had  come  from  milking  the  cows,  he  burst 
into  the  house  with  a  loud  laugh,  violently  struck 
the  butt-end  of  the  gun  on  the  floor,  rammed  his 
hand  into  his  pockets,  filled  with  mottled  feathers, 
and  threw^  the  dead  Jimmy  into  his  mother's  lap. 
The  good  wife  lifted  up  her  skinny  hands,  while  the 
very  borders  of  her  cap  stood  out  with  horror.  Pet- 
rified for  a  moment,  she  sat  still  in  the  high-backed 
chair  ;  then  spilling  the  bleeding  bird  out  of  her  lap, 
and  rising  in  a  rage,  she  pointed  with  her  finger 
alternately  at  the  victim  and  the  guilty  Derrick,  as 
HoNNEs,  returnins:  from  his  evening-  work  and  seeing 
what  had  been  done,  crooked  his  right  arm,  partial- 
ly closed  his  fist,  'and  aimed  a  violent  blow  at  his 
son's  ear. 

When  the  people  had  been  informed  of  the  mas- 
sacre accomplished  by  Derrick,  they  exclaimed, 
'  0  Bub  !  what  have  you  done  ?  You  have  shot 
Jimmy  !  We  would  not  stand  in  your  shoes  for  all 
the  coin  that  your  mother  has  in  her  stocking  ;  no, 
not  for  Crow  Hill !'  But  Dirk  only  grinned  and 
giggled,  and  appeared  pleased  with  his  exploit. 

As  for  Vanderdonk,  on  the  occasion  aforesaid, 
so  soon  as  he  had  somewhat  recovered  from  his  ex- 
citement, he  took  up  Jimmy  by  the  legs,  dug  a  deep 


UP    THE     RIVER.  I37 

hole,  and  buried  him  in  the  garden,  exclaiming,  as 
he  resumed  his  seat  and  re-loaded  his  pipe,  '  Bad 
lug  !  bad  lug  !'  In  fact,  that  very  night  the  worthy 
couple  had  scarce  retired,  when  a  loud  cawing  was 
heard  through  the  house,  and  soon  after,  to  their  in- 
expressible horror,  they  observed  by  the  light  of  the 
moon  the  old  crow  perched  upon  the  bed-post. 
Vanderdonk  rose  from  his  bed,  and  attempted  to 
reach  him  with  the  handle  of  a  broom-stick — but 
only  struck  the  unresisting  air.  The  image  still 
remained,  and  it  repeatedly  opened  its  mouth,  cry- 
ing pathetically,  '  Caw  !  caw  I'  while  the  ring-doves 
and  pigeons  under  the  eaves  uttered  all  night  an 
ululating  lamentation.  '  Bad  lug  !  bad  luo^  !'  re- 
peated  Hans,  covering  up  his  head  with  the  clothes. 
And  assuredly  bad  luck  presently  overtook  him. 
The  next  spring,  soon  after  he  had  planted  his 
crops,  it  was  announced  to  him  one  day  that  all  the 
crows  in  the  neighbourhood  were  pulling  up  his 
corn,  without  any  regard  to  his  signals.  He  went 
out,  and  with  one  discharge  of  his  long  gun  drove 
them  all  away.  Soon  after.  Derrick  was  missing, 
and  he  went  out  with  a  stout  stick  to  thrash  him  on 
his  way  home.  In  vain  he  sought  him  at  the  road- 
side ale-house,  and  at  all  his  accustomed  haunts. 
Then  he  wandered  over  his  own  domains,   and  just 


138  ^'1'    'i'HE     RIVER 

as  he  had  ascended  a  peak  of  Crow  Hill,  a  singular 
omen  met  his  eye.  He  saw  Derrick  running  out  of 
the  woods,  his  hat  off,  his  hair  streaming  in  the 
winds,  hotly  pursued  by  a  whole  flock  of  crows. 
They  hovered  about  the  boy's  head,  and  picked  at 
him  in  the  rear.  Vanderdonk  flew  to  the  rescue  ; 
he  laid  about  him  furiously  with  the  stick  which  he 
had  taken  to  whip  Derrick,  but  was  obliged  to  give 
up  the  attack,  and  join  the  boy  in  his  flight.  They 
hurried  over  the  fields  ;  they  leaped  the  fences  and 
emerged  into  the  highway,  taking  the  nearest  path 
to  their  home.  There  all  the  little  boys,  rushing 
out  of  school,  flung  their  caps  in  the  air,  and  joined 
in  a  hue-and-cry  :  '  There  they  go  !  See  'em  !  see 
'em  !  Caw  !  caw  !  Vanderdonk  !  Vanderdonk  !' 
and  all  the  windows  were  thrown  up,  and  the  old 
women  lifted  their  hands  and  exclaimed,  *  My  sakes 
alive  !'  Arrived  within  doors,  the  fugitives  sat 
down  breathless,  well  nigh  frightened  out  of  their 
wits,  Vvliile  all  the  noisy  flock  continued  to  pick  at 
the  windows  and  invest  the  house.  From  this  time 
Honnes  hardly  held  up  his  head,  but  became  dogged 
and  morose  to  the  end  of  his  life,  still  grunting  at 
intervals  as  he  shook  his  head,  '  Bad  lug  !  bad  lug  !' 
In  the  garden  where  he  had  buried  the  bird,  stramo- 
nium, and  burdock,  and  villanous    weeds   grew   up, 


UP    THE    RIVER. 


130 


with  inconceivable  luxuriance  and  rancour.  Wher- 
ever he  planted  any  thing,  white  Jimmy  led  on  the 
hungry  harpies,  and  neither  scare-crows  nor  his 
long  gun  availed  him  any  thing.  As  to  Derrick,  he 
screamed  habitually  in  his  dreams,  and  the  spectre 
of  the  murdered  bird  continued  to  re-appear.  Whe- 
ther the  house  was  ever  exorcised  by  the  visits  of 
the  Dominie,  has  not  been  handed  down  ;  but  a  rev- 
erence for  old  age  is  to  this  day  inculcated  in  the 
school-houses  of  Crow  Hill  by  the  Legend  of  Van- 

DERDONK. 


February,  1853. 


.■<V' 


HE  weather  has  of- 
ten (not  always  in 
our  climate)  a  fixed 
character  in  the  first 
winter  months  which 
can  be  depended  on. 
At  times,  in  January, 
you  may  sit  before 
the  open  window  to 
enjoy  the  balmy  air, 
as  if  it  were  an  ar- 
rearage of  summer,  a 
draft  of  July  on  Janu- 
ary, (to  make  up  for 
a  cold  north-east  shi- 
vering storm  out  of 
place,)  looking  down  in  the  court  upon  the  blue  flow- 
er of  the  myrtle,  the  blossoming  stock-jelly,  and  the 


UP    THE    RIVER.  141 

opening  bosom  of  the  damask-rose.  Outside,  against 
the  wall,  hangs  the  yellow  canary,  in  the  continual 
sun-shine  of  the  morning,  breaking  forth  in 
an  ecstacy  of  song.  The  haze  of  Indian  sum- 
mer still  lingers,  and  the  weak-lunged  patient 
stands  placidly  in  the  door-way  and  exchanges  agree- 
able greetings  with  those  who  pass  by,  compliment- 
ing the  weather.  'Fine  day  '  fine  day  !'  Oh  !  the 
delusive  and  bewildering  interregnum  !  Bees  creep- 
ing from  their  cells  !  birds  chirping  on  the  eaves  ! 
lilac-buds  bursting  !  scent  of  flowers  and  balm  of 
the  garden  stealing  on  the  sense  in  many  a  reviving 
pufF !  in  short,  a  mock  summer.  All  this  is  for  a 
day  ;  but  such  a  day  !  It  makes  you  think  of  Italy. 
It  is  suggestive  of  a  zephyr  in  a  valley  fanning  an 
Aeolian  harp-string  ;  wild  Boreas  from  his  fastness 
in  the  mountain,  frowning  down  with  grim  scorn, 
and  a  shepherd-boy  on  a  rock,  with  palette  on  his 
arm,  his  head  tilted  a-one  side,  his  tongue  moder- 
ately out,  a  smile  on  his  face,  painting  the  picture. 
Behind  the  genius  stands,  in  threatening  attitude, 
the  master  of  the  farm,  the  lash  uplifted  above  the 
urchin's  flaunting  plume,  and  with  one  arm  stretched 
toward  the  sheep  on  the  mountam-side,  fleeing  be- 
fore the  ravenous  dogs  like  cloud-shadows  over  the 
plains.     Then    imagine    all   other   accessories   in   a 


142  Up    THE    RIVER. 

charming  scene:  brook  winding  through  the  mea- 
dows, farm-house,  bridge,  mill-flume,  rocks,  water- 
falls. Mix  up  the  colors,  give  me  the  brush,  and  let 
me  fling  it  against  the  canvas  in  despair.  But  this 
will  lead  me  into  namby-pambies. 

I  have  received  a  handful  of  rose-buds  on  a  Christ- 
mas-day from  a  '  faire  ladye,'  who  i:)lucked  them  out 
of  her  ow^n  pleasant  garden.  They  had  been  once 
hooded  with  snow,  but  not  rifled  of  their  sweetness, 
only  the  edges  of  the  leaves  a  little  crisped, 
and  you  could  see  into  their  crimson  hearts. 
This  is  an  unanticipated  favor  ;  but  when  Januarius 
begins  to  reign,  expect  steady  weather.  His  temper 
is  even,  his  look  almost  uniformly  acrimonious.  This 
cold  Jupiter  sits  among  the  Arctics,  and  blows  flour 
out  of  his  mouth,  like  the  miller  in  the  pantomine, 
making  every  thing  white  within  reach.  It  is  well 
to  go  forth  to  meet  him  armed  cap-a-pie,  clambering 
the  hill-side  fortress  and  breasting  all  its  volleys  ; 
but  for  the  most  part,  consider  your  house  your  cas- 
tle, and  your  castle  in  a  state  of  siege.  Blaze  away 
from  within  as  he  pelts  from  without  ;  roar  up  the 
chimney  in  answer  to  his  storming  appeal  and  rat- 
tling hail  ;  lock  the  doors,  plaster  the  chinks,  stop 
up   the   crannies,  put  the  women  and  children  in  a 


U  P    T  H  E    11  I  V  E  II  .  143 

safe  place,  feast  away,  and  make  the  port-holes  glare 
with  livid  flash  . 

*  Large  reponens  lignum  super  foco? 

Fehruary  is  more  fickle,  and  discontented  with  his 
span  of  days  and  with  the  tardy  compromise  of  leap- 
year  vents  his  ill-humour  in  all  kinds  of  moods.  Now 
he  exceeds  his  predecessor  in  coldness  of  reception. 
Have  on  an  extra  coat,  to  be  shielded  from  his  in- 
clemency, and  he  will  compel  you  to  pull  off  your 
flannel-jacket.  Adapt  yourself  to  this  freak,  and  on 
the  next  day  your  animation  flags,  you  retire  to  bed 
before  dark,  mixing  up  '  bolasses  ad'n  videgar'  for  a 
'bad  code  id'n  der  ed.'  And  oh!  how  disagreeable 
is  a  'code  id  de  ed  !'  Cheeks  hot,  pulse  leaping  at 
the  wrist,  eyes  as  full  of  tears,  which  occasion  no 
sympathy,  as  a  crocodile's  in  the  river  Nile.  'Anne, 
bring  a  crash-towl  and  a  pail  of  hot  water,  and  put 
some  ashes  in  it.  Aigh  !  I'm  scalded  !  Make  some 
catnip-tea,  or  rather  a  whid'n'sky  punch  ;  I'm 
wretched.      Good-night  !' 

But  if  the  snow  abounds,  the  plentiful  peppering 
pellets  do  not  so  unpitifully  pelt  you  as  before,  nor 
are  its  fine  particles  so  often  driven  over  the  surface, 
forming  drifts  to  skirt  the  edges  of  the  high  way, 
and  leave  the  middle  of  the  road  bare.     Neither  does 


144  UP    THE    RI  V  ER. 

it  squeak  under  the  runner,  nor  crackle  and  crunch 
under  the  foot  ;  but  wherever  you  have  planted  the 
ferale  of  your  cane,  the  little  cistern  is  filled  up 
with  a  reflection  of  the  cerulean  sky.  Now  it  is  fit 
to  be  formed  into  monuments,  or  to  be  hurled  from 
the  hand  of  sportive  sehool-boys  over  the  play-ground 
palisades.  Now  it  is  becoming  to  look  out  for  your 
crown,  or  for  your  smarting  ears,  whether  you  are 
accompanied  by  the  merry  '  bells,  bells,  bells,'  as 
Edgar  has  it,  or  walk  thoughtlessly  beneath  the 
eaves,  from  which  descends  the  sliding  avalanche. 
It  is  unpleasant  to  be  dodging  snow-balls.  Unpleas- 
ant is  the  choral  laugh  which  greets  you  from  the 
sunny  door-way.  Keep  your  temper.  The  month 
has  attained  its  majority  ;  the  sweet  blue-bird  has 
more  than  once  ventured  to  carol  on  the  leafless 
apple-tree  in  the  orchard  ;  the  snows  are  of  a  melt- 
ing character,  albeit  they  fall  with  still  profuser  lar- 
gess, as  if  the  heavens  were  coming  down  upon  the 
plains  of  Muscovy.  A  week  ago  I  remember  seeing 
the  snow-banks  in  the  sky,  and  toward  night  the 
courier-flakes  began  to  fall.  Presently  the  earth 
was  flecked  with  those  white  spangles,  star-like 
spatches,  delicately  marked  and  softly  falling,  as  if 
they  had  been  the  foot-prints  of  pure  angels,  till,  as 
the    sun  went   down,   the    clouds    discharged    theii 


UP    THE     RIVER.  I45 

fleecy  cargo,  with  scarce  an  interval  between  the 
flakes  ;  and  in  an  instant,  from  the  river's  margin  to 
the  summit  of  the  distant  hills,  there  was  drawn 
noiselessly  over  the  earth  a  sheet,  a  shroud  so  white 
'as  no  fuller  on  earth  could  whiten  it.' 

Oh  !  splendid  spectacle  of  the  falling  snow,  look- 
ing at  it  through  the  crusted  panes,  beyond  the  mi- 
mic arts  to  represent  it  !  I  was  fifteen  miles  from 
home,  and  with  only  the  light  of  the  young  moon  aloft, 
started,  in  the  teeth  of  the  storm,  on  my  return  jour- 
ney through  the  Highland  defiles.  A  cold  wind  drove 
it  into  our  faces,  and  kept  the  eye-lashes  in  continual 
motion  to  wink  off  the  great  flakes,  which  flitted  con- 
tinually, '  like  doves  to  the  windows.'  My  compe- 
tent and  careful  guide,  his  hands  wrapped  in  mittens, 
his  head  crouching  upon  his  shoulder,  with  difficulty 
glancing  from  under  the  rim  of  his  hat,  and  striving 
to  see  through  the  blinding  mist,  as  safely  guided 
me  over  the  trackless  road  as  the  faithful  Mameluke 
once  guided  the  Emperor  over  the  plains  of  Russia. 
Such  a  journey  has  its  recreation.  Tucked  in  with 
the  skins  of  buflfaloes  and  of  the  spotted  leopard,  and 
with  head  enveloped  like  an  Egyptian  mummy's, 
from  a  loop-hole  in  the  moth-eaten  woollen  tippet  I 
caught  satisfying  glimpses  of  snow-pictures,  peeping 
from  behind  the  veil,  and  falling  back  to  revel  in  the 


146  UP    THE    RIVER. 

luxury  of  their  suggestive  fancies.  All  the  land- 
marks were  disappearing,  the  trees  put  on  again 
their  feathery  costume,  and  the  aromatic  haystacks, 
which  had  been  heaped  up  in  the  sweltering  hotness 
of  summer,  were  dimly  visible,  like  chaste  pyramids 
under  the  misty  moon.  Cold  confines  the  body  to 
a  place  of  snug  comfort,  but  Imagination  flies,  like 
a  Lapland  lover  with  his  rein-deer,  over  the  glassy 
plains.  I  would  not  change  my  meditations  in  that 
cold  sleigh-ride — no,  not  for  those  which  I  have  had 
upon  a  summer  porch  all  overrun  with  sweet  vines 
and  clematis  ;  or  in  a  swinging  hammock,  where, 
through  the  leaves  of  June,  I  saw  the  waves  of  the 
sea  twinkle.  The  storm  became  aggravated  as  w^e 
passed  through  the  mountain-gaps  ;  cold,  cold,  cold 
the  wind  blew,  for  there  it  came  over  '  the  river ;' 
the  large  flakes  combined,  and  fell  into  our  laps  on 
the  skins  of  the  buff'alo  and  spotted  leopard.  Lulled 
by  the  jingling  bells,  I  withdrew  my  eye  from  the 
loop-hole,  threw  the  responsibility  upon  him  who 
held  the  reins,  and,  without  exchanging  a  single 
word,  relapsed  into  reverie.  Then,  as  ever  on  like 
occasions,  did  all  my  bookish,  boyish  voyaging  by 
winter  fire-side  to  northern  climes  come  back  to 
memory,  but  over-arched  with  a  richer  glow  than  of 
the  aurora-borealis.     I  saw  the   white-bear  leaping 


UP   th:e  river.  147 

on  the  polar  ices  ;  sly,  universal  Reynard  at  his 
tricks  ;  and  all  the  waltzing  animals  in  that  dim 
twilight,  and  the  eider-duck  brooding  on  its  nest 
among  the  inaccessible,  Icelandic  rocks.  I  was  a 
witness  of  the  spouting  Geiser  ;  and  from  the  top  of 
Hecla,  over  fields  of  lava  and  chaotic  masses,  and 
glaciers  where  a  human  foot  had  never  trod,  and  all 
the  amphitheatre  of  snow-covered  hill-tops  to  the 
sea,  looked  down  upon  a  prospect  wild,  torpid,  pas- 
sionless, but  sublime.  Back  again,  with  the  swift- 
ness of  lightning,  to  the  other  hemisphere,  with 
McKenzie,  I  saw  the  Esquimaux,  wrapped  up  in 
furs,  standing  alone  upon  a  bleak  rock  ;  then  sail- 
ing with  Parry  on  the  coasts  of  Melville  Island, 
through  Lancaster  Sound,  in  Baffin's  Bay,  along  the 
shores  of  Greenland,  even  to  the  dreary  town  of 
Julianshaab.  Thence  I  voyaged  in  a  ship,  to  see 
the  Knisteneaux,  and  to  be  drawn  in  sledges  to  the 
trading-stations  where  the  factors  dwell,  by  the 
docile  dogs  of  Labrador  ;  over  the  sea  again,  just 
touching  at  the  Hebrides,  the  Orkneys,  the  Shet- 
land, the  Faroes,  and  at  the  LufFoden  Islands,  to 
winter  in  Archangel.  Archangel,  on  the  White  Sea, 
used  to  be  a  place  after  my  own  heart.  Spitzber- 
gen  and  Nova  Zembla,  Siberia  and  the  steppes  of 
Russia,  the  golden   domes   of  Moscow,    '  that  great 


148  ^P    THE    RIVER. 

city,  Napoleon  on  the  Kremlin  ramparts  wrapped  in 
conflagration — these  passed  along  like  pictures  of 
an  hyperborean  panorama. 

There    is    some    charm  in  barrenness.     Madame 
Pfeiffer  caught  two  honey-bees  in  Iceland,  and  from 
the  chinks  of  Hecla  the  queer   adventurous  woman 
derived    a  jar    of  sweets    more    rare  and  surfeiting 
than   those    compacted  by  the  winged  confectioners 
of  Hybla  or  Hymettus.     I   wish    to   travel   and   see 
the  world.      Oh  !   for  one  short  month  in  those  shiv- 
ering  regions    where    Madame    went,    though    one 
short  year  or  one  short  life  would  not  suffice  to  tell 
the  wonders  of  the  land  !     Thus  it  doth  appear  why 
the  Unknown  involves  an  essential  element   of  the 
true  Sublime,   because  it  has  a  vasty  proportion,  of 
which  Discovery  can  afford  no  unit  of  measure  ;  and 
as  fast    as    we    stretch   into  it,  we  perceive  that  its 
objects   are  colossal,    and  beyond   our   grasp.     All 
the   Seven   Wonders    hide    their   diminished  heads. 
Well  may  we  tremble  in   awe   upon   its   verge — for 
there  the  spirit  of  its  greatness  broods  upon  us,  and 
'  Darkness  which   makes    all   our  bones  to  quake.' 
When  will  the  veil  be  uplifted  from  our   ignorance, 
and  Knowledge,  in  despite  of  Roman  guards,  like  a 
white-robed    angel,    roll  away   the   stone    from   the 
door  of  the  sepulchre  ? 


U  P    THE    RIVER.  I49 

But  the  difficult  spots  of  earth  are  the  very  birth- 
spots  of  nobility,  even  as  Africa  is  the  arid  nursing 
place  of  lions.  In  the  romantic  regions  of  the  polar 
seas,  where  Gothic  matter  piles  its  obstacles  against 
the  advance  of  mind,  methought  I  saw  the  mariners 
searching  for  Sir  John  Franklin.  Through  over- 
arching bridges  of  sea-green  ice,  splitting  with  re- 
verberations into  fragments  soon  after  the  ships 
passed  underneath  ;  through  grinding  bergs  illumin- 
ated by  occasional  flashes  from  the  distant  jokul  or 
the  northern  aurora  ;  through  '  cerulean,'  but  not 
fictitious  Symphlegades,  where  the  rocks  kept 
coming  together  every  instant,  and  only  a  keen- 
eyed  helmsman  could  shoot  the  ship  ;  the  American 
Pine  still  nodding  to  the  steadfast  hearts  cased  up 
in  English  Oak  ;  the  bows  all  turned  with  fixed  de- 
termination where  an  '  open  sea  '  has  been  laid  out 
in  charts,  I  fancied  that  they  voyaged  on — the  mar- 
iners searching  for  Sir  John  Franklin  !  Nor  will 
that  task  be  unaccomplished.  A  prophet's  voice 
forewarns  us  that  it  cannot  be  that  God  will  disre- 
gard the  prayers  accompanied  with  such  sublime 
endeavour.  The  time  is  not  far  distant  when  the 
ices  will  relax  their  grasp,  and  brave  companions  be 
clasped  in  each  other's  arms,  and  the  triumphant 
ships    shall    sail    away    with    their    most    precious 


150  UPTHEKIVER. 

freight,  and  '  all  the  bells  in  England,  from  Land's 
End  to  John  o'  Groat,  ring  forth  a  merry  peal  on 
the  return  of  Belcher's  Expedition.'         *  * 

Presently  I  was  recalled  from  reveries  such  as 
these  by  crossing  a  bridge  which  spanned  a  moun- 
tain-gap. Underneath,  at  the  distance  of  a  hundred 
feet,  a  stream,  swollen  by  the  winter  floods,  rolled  on 
with  a  loud  noise  from  water-fall  to  water-fall  on  its 
winding  way  ;  and  the  illuminated  windows  of  the 
factories,  which,  built  of  stone,  rose  to  the  height  of 
six  or  seven  stories,  and  whose  foundations  were  like 
solid  rocks  upon  its  marge,  cast  a  glare  of  light  upon 
the  foaming  water,  the  rocks,  the  icicles,  and  all  the 
features  of  the  Titanic  glen. 

Removing  the  tippet,  I  looked  down  for  a  moment 
on  this  place,  whose  grandeur  had  impressed  me 
strongly  when  seen  by  the  light  of  day.  The  mill- 
flumes  were  in  motion,  and  the  operatives  were  still 
at  work,  and  I  heard  the  hum  of  labor  above  the 
roaring  of  the  storm,  going  steadily  on  in  those  high 
lofts  on  the  edge  of  the  precipice.  The  Utilitarian 
spirit  has  no  regard  for  the  Beautiful  or  the  Pictur- 
esque. It  sweeps  away  the  solemn  forests,  and  dis- 
turbs with  everlasting  din  the  places  dear  to  Con- 
templation, '  pensive  maid.'  Here,  however,  it  had 
not  succeeded  in  destroying  the  features  of  the  place  ; 


UP     THE    RIVER.  151 

for  the  buildings  seem  to  be  a  part  of  the  very  rocks 
through  the  fissures  of  which  the  water  gashes  its 
way,  and  their  perpendicular  walls  make  the  gorge 
look  more  deep.  At  some  distance  farther  on, 
the  same  stream  takes  a  considerable  leap,  and  I 
heard  its  voice,  although  I  saw  it  not,  for  its  cata- 
ract was  not  illumined  by  artificial  light.  The  day 
before  I  had  noticed  the  white  slabs  of  ice  through 
the  transparent  sheet  upon  its  edge,  on  the  smooth 
surface  of  which  the  sun  was  reflected  as  on  a  pol- 
ished mirror.  Here  is  a  vast  ruin.  A  high  chimney 
stands  apart,  like  a  shot-tower  on  the  cliff,  and  near 
by  are  the  dismantled  walls  of  a  factory,  where  the 
fire  has  done  its  work.  The  labourers  had  ceased, 
and  the  watchman  had  sounded  his  midnight  cry, 
'  All's  well !'  upon  the  walls,  when  a  suffocating 
smoke  pervaded  all  the  place.  Clambering  to  the 
belfry,  he  tolled  the  alarm,  and  as  its  solemn  ap- 
peal awoke  the  sleeping  inhabitants  of  the  glen, 
the  flames  burst  forth  and  illumined  all  the  mountain 
tops.  The  watchman  sank  and  perished  on  the  por- 
tals, as  he  attempted  to  make  his  exit,  with  the  iron- 
keys  in  his  hand.  As  we  passed  the  spot,  I  thought 
of  the  perils  of  the  guardians  of  the  night,  and  that 
I  would  not — no,  for  lumps  of  gold — be  one  of  those 
who   walk   their  lonely  rounds    in   the   small   hours 


152  UP    THE     RIVER. 

perhaps  to  see  a  robber  skulk  beneath  the  walls, 
or  the  sly  flame  licking  the  roof  with  its  tongue. 
I  should  be  afraid — afraid  !  Oh  !  the  fire  is  a 
great  enemy  to  cope  with  ;  and  wherever  the 
seed-sparks  are  wafted  on  the  winds,  they  bloom 
out  marvellously,  but  their  harvest  is  destruc- 
tion and  waste.  I  have  risen  up  and  pressed  my 
face  against  the  glaring  panes  in  the  city,  behold- 
ing with  admiration  the  hot  billows,  above  which 
I  have  seen  the  pigeons,  frightened  from  their 
eaves,  flying  on  wings  of  fire,  and  the  jets  shoot 
up  from  the  saltpetre  heaps,  waiting  for  the  crash 
of  some  great  dome,  beneath  which  was  a  white 
statue  rocking  on  its  pedestal  ;  while  perhaps 
the  sculptor  among  the  crowd  beheld  his  work  en- 
circled in  a  halo  of  beauty. 

The  storm  of  which  I  have  spoken,  was  accom- 
panied at  the  farther  north  by  the  unusual  phenome- 
non of  thunder  and  sharp  lightning,  which  produced 
a  wild,  unearthly  brilliance  as  it  imbued  the  mass 
of  falling  snow.  The  atmosphere  was  surcharged, 
red  balls  of  fire  rolled  about  as  if  some  demons  fro- 
licked, trees  were  torn  up  by  the  roots,  and  all  things 
bristled  with  the  electric  fluid  like  a  cat's  back.  No 
such  doings  occurred  in  these  quarters.  But  soon 
after  a  galloping    thaw  came  on,   accompanied  by 


UP    THE    RIVER.  153 

smoky  weather,  and  the  atmosphere  actually  smelled 
of  charred  wood.  There  was  a  perpetual  sound  of 
dripping  ;  the  stream  which  rolls  at  the  mountain- 
base  so  placidly  in  summer,  scarce  plentiful  enough 
to  wet  the  stones,  and  turning  aside  for  the  dry  logs 
and  trunks  of  trees,  where  turtles  sun  themselves, 
swelled  gradually  above  its  banks,  reached  to  the 
over-arching  limbs,  where  ring-doves  built  their 
nests,  and  wafted  about  their  light  cradles.  Then 
the  meadow  became  changed  to  a  navigable  lake, 
where  scare-crows  were  above  their  heads,  and  one 
might  cling  for  salvation  to  a  hay-cock  ;  while  here 
and  there,  floating  about  on  the  deep,  lo  !  some  milk- 
pail,  taken  by  surprise,  or  some  hen-coop  launched 
upon  a  distant  voyage.  The  water  began  to  creep 
in  narrow  pools  across  the  high-way  ;  and  as  the 
melted  snows  continued  to  roll  down  the  mountains, 
filling  all  the  gullies  and  wiping  out  the  sheep- 
tracks,  and  copious  rains  succeeded,  Deucalion's 
Deluge  appeared  to  be  renewed.  At  night  the  dark- 
ness was  impenetrable,  and  it  was  as  still  as  death, 
until  about  midnight  I  heard  a  steady  roar  among  the 
mountains,  quite  as  loud  as  the  fall  of  a  heavy  cat- 
aract or  the  beating  of  breakers  on  the  sea-coast. 
It  was  the  wind  afar  off  in  the  forests  advancing  by 
slow   degrees,   and    in  due  time   it  arrived,  and  less 


154 


UP    THE    RIVER. 


sullenly  and  monotonously  howled  about  the  house 
until  the  cock-crowing,  when  it  suddenly  ceased, 
and  became  so  quiet,  that  I  can  compare  it  with  no- 
thins"  but  a  lamb  lulled  on  the  breast  of  its  mother. 


I 


XI, 


March,  1853. 

NCE  more  the  trees  are 
all  covered,  and  the  Ice- 
King  comes  bedecked 
with  gems.  Through  the 
day  a  cold  sun  shone, 
and  did  not  dissolve  the 
frost-work  ;  and  at  night 
I  walked  through  an  en- 
-  chanted  grove,  with  the 
full  round  moon  aloft.  A 
profound  stillness  reign- 
r    ed    abroad,    for    I  heard 

^    -^',~    — ^-  —  -    not  a  billow  beat,  and  not 

a  sound  murmur,  only  the 
crackle  of  the  icy  tubes  and  crusted  leaves  beneath 
the  feet.     The   eye   danced   confusedly  among  the 


156  UP    THE    11  TVER. 

spangles  and  clusters  of  glassy  fruitage,  -where  all 
the  softened  glory  of  the  night  appeared  to  wreak 
itself,  and  the  pure  bosom  of  every  pearl-drop  was 
made  the  residence  of  a  star.  I  picked  up  a  hand- 
ful of  fallen  globules,  and  saw  the  satellite's  image. 
How  tranquilly  and  how  beautifully  do  the  hea- 
vens come  down  to  rest  on  every  object  save  the 
blurred  heart  of  man !  The  earth  violates  no  law, 
and  God  mirrors  Himself  upon  its  surface,  and  there 
is  no  dew-drop  so  small  that  it  could  not  show  a 
picture  of  all  the  worlds  which  He  has  made.  And 
here  methought  that  the  dissolution  of  light  into 
its  original  prismatic  colours  is  like  the  dissolving 
of  all  things  pure  and  good ;  ever  waxing  more 
saintly  beautiful  as  they  lapse  into  more  ethereal 
forms,  when  their  vital  intensity  and  strength  ap- 
pear to  die  away.  These  beams,  which  were  the 
descendants  of  the  sun,  transferred  to  the  spiritual 
brightness  of  the  moon,  flickered  away  in  the  bosom 
of  the  ice-drops  like  the  colours  which  grace  the 
plumes  of  a  departing  angel  in  its  flight.  And  how 
marvellous  the  transformation  of  created  things  ! 
Here  in  this  grove  had  I  rambled  like  a  spirit  to 
some  well-loved  hauntmg-place  in  summer,  when 
the  trees  were  plumply  budding,  and  the  blossoms 
of  the  wild  grape  gave  a  good  smell  ;  here   tracked 


UP    THE    RIVER.  ^57 

the  by-path  through  opposing  brambles  to  some 
choice  bower,  or  sat  beside  the  dripping  stones 
where  the  waters  of  the  brook  murmured  ;  here, 
lulled  to  quietude,  stood  still  beneath  the  branching 
elm  to  hear  the  dashing  of  the  airy  surf,  and  thread 
the  delicious  notes  of  every  wild  bird  through  the 
mazes  of  concerted  song  ;  here  in  the  suggestive 
hurry  of  the  moment,  how  vainly  drew  the  ivory 
tablets  to  receive  the  pictures  which  I  had  no  hand 
to  pencil,  and  the  poem  which  I  had  no  power  to 
write  !  And  now,  how  changed  the  scene  since  the 
prompting-whistle  of  the  winter  gave  its  piercing 
summons  for  the  green  curtain  to  be  withdrawn  ; — 
and  as  I  saw  the  shafts  and  over-arching  limbs  of 
elms  and  veteran  oaks  encased  in  icy  armour, 
through  which  the  mottled  moonbeams  shone  upon 
the  path,  I  felt  like  one  who  trod  among  the  abodes 
of  Genii,  and  the  illusions  of  a  Fairy-land.  Oh,  ye 
ice  and  snow,  bless  ye  the  Lord  !  praise  Him  and 
magnify  Him  for  ever  !  On  the  morrow  a  new 
scene  awaited  me. 

Have  you  ever  gazed  upon  the  noble  river  when 
it  has  been  congealed  down  to  the  very  caves  and 
pores  of  the  earth,  out  of  which  its  living  streams 
bubble  ?  It  is  a  spectacle  not  less  worthy  of  admi- 
ration than  when  it  flashes  unimpeded   in  the  sum- 


158  UP    THE     RIVER 

mer's  sun.  I  went  down  to  its  yet  frozen  marge, 
and  desired  to  cross  over.  The  great  slabs  of  ice 
which  had  first  floated  on  the  current  from  its  source 
in  the  high  north,  forced  one  above  another  where 
tliey  had  been  intercepted  by  the  projecting  shore, 
lay  as  far  as  the  eye  could  reach  in  wild  and  chaotic 
confusion.  I  had  myself  seen  them  when  loose, 
grinding  and  jostling  and  leaping  over  each  other, 
pushing  in  advance  of  them  with  a  shovelling  sound 
a  mass  of  pounded  ice,  they  became  banked  up  on 
the  shores ;  and  it  now  looked  as  if  these  w^ide- 
strewn  and  gigantic  blocks  had  been  hewn  from 
some  Arctic  quarry,  or  as  if  here  a  crystal  city  had 
been  laid  waste, 

"  With  all  its  towers,  and  domes,  and  cathedrals, 
In  undistingmshable  overthrow  " 

Then  came  the  thought  that  all  these  rocky  ruins 
were  but  a  portion  of  the  liquid  waves  which  lately 
kissed  the  shore  with  scarce  a  murmur,  and  again 
the  transformation  should  be  brought  about.  They 
should  be  changed  into  an  element  so  light  as  to  be 
wafted  in  company  with  the  feather,  or  to  buoy  up 
the  stem  of  a  lily  in  its  cove.  Nature  is  the  great 
magician,  after  all  ;  and  from  '  cold  Obstruction's 
apathy,'  unto  the  loving   warmth   and  light  of  life, 


UP    THE    RIVER.  I59 

her  processes  are  all  miracles  as  much  as  when  a 
dead  man  is  raised  from  the  sepulchre  ;  not  more. 
One  is  more  astounding  than  the  other,  but  God 
works  both  in  the  development  of  his  glorious  and 
immutable  laws. 

The  frozen  surface  of  the  river,  at  the  point 
where  I  stood,  was  inconceivably  jagged  and  wild, 
like  its  ice-bound  coasts,  (save  here  and  there  a 
smooth,  slippery  plane,)  as  if  it  had  been  frozen 
when  a  crisp  breeze  was  blowing ;  consisting  of 
slabs  of  snow-ice  cemented  roughly,  intercepted 
snow-banks,  rude,  unsightly  masses  jutting  up, 
sharp  splinters  and  candescent  pinnacles  as  far  as 
the  eye  could  reach,  all  glittering  in  the  sun  ;  but 
in  the  centre,  the  powerful  current,  struggling  to 
throw  off  its  manacles,  had  forced  a  way,  and  rolled 
on  freely  to  the  sea.  Thus  was  the  bridge  broken  ; 
and  the  gigantic  effort  was  going  on,  for  1  heard  the 
great  mass  split  with  a  sound  like  thunder,  followed 
by  a  track  of  rainbow-colours  and  feathery  pencil- 
lings  of  light  throughout  the  passage  of  the  entire 
cleft.  I  stood  uncertain  upon  the  brink,  when  two 
ferry-men  approached,  and  without  the  offer  of  '  a 
silver  crown,'  engaged  to  carry  me  to  the  opposite 
bank  in  safety.  Their  boat  was  fixed  on  temporary 
runners.     When  I  had  embarked  and  sat  down   in 


160  UP    THE    RIVER. 

the  middle  seal,  they  threw  off  their  coats,  although 
the  air  was  sharp,  and  fastened  on  their  feet  thongs 
pierced  with  sharp  nails.  Seizing  the  boat  at  each 
end,  they  dragged  it  with  difficulty  over  the  rough 
parts,  glibly  and  on  the  full  run  over  the  smooth 
ice,  among  the  skating  boys  ;  and  presently  we  ap- 
proached the  lip  of  thin  ice  on  the  borders  of  the 
stream.  Here  the  advancement  became  ticklish — 
and  it  required  no  small  dexterity  to  effect  the 
launch.  'Try  it  a  little  farther  up  the  stream,' 
said  the  boatman,  and  accordingly  they  pushed 
along  to  seek  for  an  eligible  spot  for  getting  out  in- 
to clear  water.  The  way  in  which  the  boatmen 
effected  it  was  this :  one  sat  on  the  bow  as  he 
would  on  a  horse,  trying  the  strength  of  the  thin 
glass  before  him  with  his  feet,  the  other  pushed  on 
the  outside  from  the  stern.  This  caused  no  small 
rocking,  and  I  began  to  protest  earnestly  against 
this  polar-navigation,  and  to  dread  the  fate  of  Sir 
John  Franklin.  Once  or  twice  the  adventurous 
ferryman  had  his  foot  in,  and  at  last,  when  the  ice 
gave  way  under  the  pressure  of  the  boat,  and  he 
drew  in  his  legs,  the  other  continued  to  push  until 
he  also  jumped  suddenly  in  and  nearly  upset  the 
boat.  I  informed  the  captain  and  the  mate  that  had 
T  known  their  tactics,  I  should  not  have  put  my  life 


UP    THE    RIVER.  161 

in  jeopardy.  They  replied  that  '  any  business  was 
safe  arter  you  had  got  accustomed  to  it ;'  and  taking 
each  a  chew  of  tobacco,  they  pushed  the  loose  ice 
aside,  the  larger  cakes  with  the  heels  of  their  boots, 
and  at  last  took  to  their  oars  in  the  open  sea.  The 
landing  on  the  ice  was  again  effected  in  a  like  man- 
ner, only  that  the  helms-man  embarked  first.  Very 
glad  was  I  to  reach  the  opposite  coast,  and  I  made 
a  vow  on  the  deck  of  a  canal-boat — on  which  I  had 
the  good  luck  to  scramble — by  all  the  spires  of 
Newburgh,  to  invoke  the  aid  of  steam  when  I 
should,  be  ready  to  re-cross  the  river. 


Fifteenth. — Still  the  winter  lingers,  although  it 
relaxes  its  hold,  and  the  ploughshare  has  become 
burnished  in  the  furrow,  and  '  the  ploughman  home- 
ward plods  his  weary  way.'  The  sap  runs  up  in 
the  maple,  and  the  stems  of  the  brook-willows  look 
as  yellow  as  gold.  The  purple  shadows  lie  beauti- 
ful on  the  mountains,  where  the  forests  are  just 
budding,  while  on  a  sunny  day  the  blue-birds  come 
out  in  multitudes  from  the  holes  in  the  apple  trees, 
and  make  the  orchards  vocal  with  their  rich,  velvet 
notes.  Blue-bird  is  the  precursor  of  spring-tide, 
the  emblem  of  hope,   and   the  violet   of  the  air.     I 


162  UP    THE    HI  VEIL 

love  to  see  him  shake  his  indigo  wings  on  a  chilly 
Sunday  morning  on  my  way  to  church ;  and  al- 
though his  song  is  reduced  to  a  single  plaintive  note 
in  autumn,  there  is,  as  I  may  say,  but  a  narrow 
strip  of  icy  w^eather  between  the  pauses  of  hie 
roundelay.  He  is  with  us  when  the  crisp  and  yel- 
low leaves  are  falling,  and  he  returns  to  warble 
before  the  trees  begin  to  bud.  He  is  seldom  shot 
at,  and  enjoys  deservedly  a  perfect  freedom  of  the 
air. 

« To  see  a  fellow  on  a  summer's  morning  ' 

aim  his  gun  at  such  a  bird  as  this,  would  be  enough 
to  rouse  the  heirs  of  Audubon,  or  the  shade  of 
Wilson,  at  the  sound  of  his  detested  volley.  For 
this  bird,  Wilson,  is  thy  Sialia  Wilsonii,  and  not 
unworthy  to  be  described  in  scientific  language, 
down  to  his  very  toes:  "Feet  rather  stout;  his 
toes  of  moderate  length  ;  the  outer  toe  united  at  the 
base  ;  the  inner  free  ;  hind  toe  the  strongest.'  But 
now,  while  Blue-bird  sings,  the  sun  has  vanished, 
the  clouds  fly  hurry-scurry,  the  snows  fall  criss- 
cross, and  the  small  white  pellets  bounce  upon  the 
sod,  and  show  a  disposition  to  gather  in  angles  and 
at  the  house-corners  ;  for  March  goes  out    w^ith  the 


UP    THE     RIVER.  163 

weeping,     whining-,    whimpering,    whimsical    moods 
which  belong  to  April  and  early  May. 

At  this  season  of  the  year,  when  the  recurrence 
of  every  pleasant  day  makes  you  to  feel  as  if  you  had 
the  fee-simple  of  the  summer  ;  and  when,  with  an 
ill-temper,  you  again  meet  the  exacerbating  winds 
which  blow  from  ice-bergs  or  mountains  sprinkled 
with  the  snows,  there  is  no  place  of  resort  more 
pleasant  than  on  the  threshing-floor,  within  the  open 
folding-doors  of  a  big  barn.  It  is  a  nook  which 
draws  the  sun  ;  and  in  the  yard,  covered  knee-deep 
with  .chaff,  stands  the  mullowing  cow,  with  her  little 
white-speckled  offspring  at  her  side,  licking  its  soft 
fur  with  motherly  affection  ;  while  the  lordly  cock 
scratches  for  hid  treasures  ;  and  the  hens,  whose 
combs  have  freshly  sprouted  and  have  a  sanguine 
colcur,  utter  the  well-known  sounds  indicative  of 
fresh  eggs  in  the  spring  :  '  Cutarcut  ! — cut — cut — 
cut — cut — cut — cut — c'tafcut  !  Cutarcut  ! — cut — 
cut — cut — cut — cut — cut — cut — cutarcut  !' 

This  reminds  me  that  an  effort  has  been  lately 
made,  upon  a  pitch-dark  night,  by  some  persons  des- 
titute of  moral  principle,  to  steal  my  fowls.  But 
the  great  muscular  energy  of  the  Shanghais  was  suf- 
ficient to  break  the  bandages  with  which  they  had 
been  secured,  and  I  found  them  with  the  strings  dang- 


164  UP    THE     RIVER. 

ling   about   their   legs   in  the   morning.     I  have  re- 
ceived a  present  of  a  pair  of  Cochin-Chinas,  a  superb 
cock   and  a  dun-colored   hen.     I  put  them  with  my 
other  fowls  in  the  cellar,  to  protect  them  for  a  short 
time  from  the  severity  of  the  weather.     My  Shang- 
hai rooster  had  for  several  nights  been  housed  up  ; 
for  on   one   occasion,  when   the  cold  was  snapping,^ 
he   was   discovered   under   the  lee   of   a   stone-wall, 
standing  on  one  leg,  taking  no  notice  of  the  approach 
of  any  one,  and  nearly  gone.     When  brought  in,  he 
backed  up    against   the    red-hot  kitchen-stove,    and 
burnt  his  tail  off.      Before  this  he  had  no  feathers  in 
the  rear  to  speak  of,  and  n®w  he  is  bob-tailed  indeed. 
Anne   sewed  upon   him  a  jacket  of  carpet,  and  put 
him  in  a  tea-box  for  the  night ;   and  it  was  ludicrous 
on  the  next  morning  to  see  him  lifting  up  his   head 
above  the  square  prison-box,   and  crowing  lustily  to 
greet  the  day       But  before  breakfast-time  he  had  a 
dreadful  fit.      He  retreated  against  the  wall,  he  fell 
upon  his  side,    he  kicked  and  he   '  carried   on  ;'   but 
when  the  carpet  was  taken  off,  he  came  to  himself, 
and  ate  corn  with  a  voracious  appetite.      His  indis- 
position was  no  doubt  occasioned  by  a  rush  of  blood 
to  the   head   from   the   tightness    of   the   bandages. 
When  Shanghai  and  Cochin  met  together  in  the  cel- 
lar,   they  enacted  in  that  dusky  hole  all   the  barba 


UP    THE    RIVER.  165 

rities  of  a  profane  cock-pit.  I  heard  a  sound  as  if 
from  the  tumbling  of  barrels,  followed  by  a  dull, 
thumping  noise,  like  spirit-rappings,  and  went  below, 
where  the  first  object  which  met  my  eye  was  a  mouse 
creeping  along  the  beam  out  of  an  excavation  in  my 
pine-apple  cheese.  As  for  the  fowls,  instead  of 
salutation  after  the  respectful  manner  of  their  coun- 
try— which  is  expressed  thus  :  Shang  knocks  knees 
to  Cochin,  bows  three  times,  touches  the  ground, 
and  makes  obeisance — they  were  engaged  in  a  bloody 
fight,  unworthy  of  celestial  poultry.  With  theii 
heads  down,  eyes  flashing  and  red  as  vipers,  and 
with  a  feathery  frill  or  ruflle  about  their  necks,  they 
were  leaping  at  each  other,  to  see  who  should  hold 
dominion  of  the  ash-heap.  It  put  me  exactly  in 
mind  of  two  Scythians  or  two  Greeks  in  America, 
where  each  wished  to  be  considered  the  only  Scy- 
thian or  only  Greek  in  the  country.  A  contest  or 
emulation  is  at  all  times  highly  animating  and  full 
of  zest,  whether  two  scholars  write,  two  athletes 
strive,  two  boilers  strain,  or  two  cocks  fight.  Every 
lazy  dog  in  the  vicinity  is  immediately  at  hand.  I 
looked  on  until  I  saw  the  Shanghai's  peepers  dark- 
ened, and  his  comb  streaming  witli  blood.  These 
birds  contended  for  some  days  after  for  pre-eminence, 
on  the    lawn,  and   no  flinching  could  be  observed  on 


166  UP    THE    RIVER. 

either  part,  although  the  Shanghai  was  by  one-third 
the  smaller  of  the  two.  At  last  the  latter  was  tho- 
roughly mortified  ;  his  eyes  wavered  and  wandered 
vaguely,  as  he  stood  opposite  the  foe  ;  he  turned  tail 
and  ran.  From  that  moment  he  became  the  veriest 
coward,  and  submitted  to  every  indignity  without 
attempting  to  resist.  He  suffered  himself  to  be 
chased  about  the  lawn,  fled  from  the  Indian  meal, 
and  was  almost  starved.  Such  submission  on  his 
part  at  last  resulted  in  peace,  and  the  two  rivals 
walked  side  by  side  without  fighting,  and  ate  together 
with  a  mutual  concession  of  the  corn.  This,  in  turn 
engendered  a  degree  of  presumption  on  the  part  of 
the  Shanghai  cock  ;  and  one  day,  when  the  dew 
sparkled  and  the  sun  shone  peculiarly  bright,  he  so 
far  forgot  himself  as  to  ascend  a  hillock,  and  ven- 
ture on  a  tolerably  triumphant  crow.  It  showed  a 
lack  of  judgment :  his  cock-a-doodle-doo  proved  fatal. 
Scarcely  had  he  done  so,  when  Cochin-China  rushed 
upon  him,  tore  out  his  feathers,  and  flogged  him  so 
severely,  that  it  was  doubtful  whether  he  would  're- 
main with  us.'  Now,  alas  !  he  presents  a  sad  spec- 
tacle ;  his  comb  frozen  off,  his  tail  burnt  off,  and  his 
head  knocked  to  a  jelly.  While  ihe  corn  jingles  in 
the  throats  of  his  compeers,  when  they  eagerly  snap 
it,    as  if  they  were  eating  from    a  pile    of  shilling- 


UP    THE    RIVER.  167 

pieces  or  fi'penny-bits,  he  stands  aloof,  and  grubs  in 
the  barren  ground.     How  changed  ! 

Last  summer  I  had  bad  luck  in  raising  chickens. 
A  carriage  ran  over  and  crushed  five  or  ten  young 
innocents,  and  the  shrill  cries  of  the  hen  were  like 
lamentations  in  Rama.  Sitting  in  my  study,  I  heard 
the  voice  of  Fel-o-ra,  saying  *  Ah  !  dear  little  sweet 
creatures  !  One  killed — two  killed — three  killed. 
Ah  !  poor,  run-over,  dear,  dead  little  creatures  !  Ah  ! 
here's  another  ! — ah  !  ah  !  ah  !  ah  !'  And  with  a 
succession  of  ah's,  did  Flora  lift  up  her  hands  over 
the  dead  chickens,  while  the  tears  ran  down  her 
red  English  cheeks.  Could  I  be  protected  from 
the  abandoned  chicken-stealer  and  roost-thief  who 
carries  a  bag  on  his  shoulder  on  a  misty  night,  to 
depopulate  the  coops,  and  take  from  you  all  which 
is  left  from  casualty,  from  the  pip  and  the  gapes, 
then  would  I  be  encouraged  to  establish  a  model 
Cennery,  to  be  visited  by  all  the  neighbours  round. 
But  there  is  little  virtue  extant  in  the  country, 
which  is  the  very  spot  where  her  pure  model  ought 
to  be.  One  would  think,  that  where  the  grass 
grows,  the  streams  run,  the  trees  blossom,  the 
birds  warble,  and  the  bees  hum,  there  would  be  no 
stealing,  except  the  innocent  delights  which  the 
senses  steal  from   the   song  of  the   birdlings,  from 


168  UPTHEIIIVER. 

the  fragrance  of  the  honey- suckle  or  the  rose.  But 
in  the  very  place  where  there  ought  to  be  a  cottage 
over-run  v^^ith  sweet  vines,  there  you  see  the  deep- 
laid  foundations  of  a  fortress  inhabited  by  eight 
hundred  rogues.  In  it  the  incipient  coop-robber  is 
hinfiself  cooped  up,  having  been  by  degrees  devel- 
oped into  the  full-blown  wretch.  He  who  will  pull 
down  a  fowl  by  the  legs  from  his  neighbour's  corn- 
crib,  v^ill  at  last  be  guilty  of  any  depravity  of  which 
the  human  heart  is  capable.  It  is  not  too  much  to 
say,  that  half  the  zest  of  living  in  the  country  is 
impaired  by  the  annoyance  of  the  detested  thieves 
and  poachers,  who  find  you  out  even  in  the  most 
sacred  and  retired  spots.  For  whensoever  your 
grapes  blush  to  one  another,  and  your  fruits  wear 
the  ruddy  hue  of  ripeness,  and  your  melons  are  at 
the  picking-point,  you  pay  your  morning  visit  to 
the  garden  and  find  them  gone.  Last  year  I  had  a 
solitary  peach  upon  a  solitary  tree,  for  the  early 
frost  frustrated  the  delicious  crop.  This  only  one, 
which  from  its  golden  colour,  might  be  entitled  El 
Dorado,  I  watched  with  fear  and  trembling  from 
day  to  day,  patiently  waiting  for  the  identical  time 
when  I  should  buoy  it  up  carefully  in  my  hand,  that 
its  pulp  should  not  be  bruised,  tear  off  its  thin  peel, 
admonished    that   the   time   had  come  by  a  gradual 


UP    THE    RIVER.  169 

releasing  of  the  fruit  from  its  adhesion  to  the  stem, 
and  I  appointed  the  next  day  for  the  ceremonial  of 
plucking.  The  morrow  dawned,  as  bright  a  day  as 
ever  dawned  upon  the  earth,  and  on  a  near  approach 
[  found  it  still  there,  and  said,  with  chuckling  grati- 
fication, '  There  is  some  delicacy  in  thieves.'  Alas  ! 
on  reaching  it,  somebody  had  taken  a  large  bite  out 
of  the  ripest  cheek,  but  with  a  sacrilegious  witticism 
had  left  it  sticking  to  the  stem.  The  detestible 
prints  of  the  teeth  which  bit  it  were  still  in  it,  and  a 
wasp  was  gloating  at  its  core.  Had  he  taken  the 
whole  peach,  I  should  have  vented  my  feelings  in 
a  violence  of  indignation  unsuited  to  a  balmy 
garden.  But  as  he  was  joker  enough  to  bite  only  its 
sunny  side,  I  must  forgive  him,  as  one  who  has 
some  element  of  salvation  in  his  character,  because 
he  is  disposed  to  look  at  the  bright  side  of  things. 
What  is  a  peach  ?  A  mere  globe  of  succulent  and 
delicious  pulp,  which  I  would  rather  be  deprived  of 
than  cultivate  bad  feejings,  even  towards  thieves. 
Wherever  you  find  rogues  whose  deeds  involve  a  sa- 
line element  of  wit,  make  up  your  mind  that  they 
are  no  rogues.  That  is  the  moral.  From  what  I 
have  said  some  lessons  may  be  learned  by  your  mere 
fantastic  novices,  who  pop  down  suddenly  in  some 
box  in  the  country,  expecting  verily  to  find  an   ely- 


170  UPTHERIVER. 

slum  on  earth.  They  have  the  most  extravagant 
dreams  about  pure  milk,  choice  air,  fresh  vegetables, 
plenty  of  poultry,  fine  fruit  :  but  when  they  come, 
they  will  find  out  that  even  there,  all  milk  will  not 
gather  cream  ;  all  the  winds  are  not  impregnated 
with  health  ;  all  peas  are  not  Prince  Albert's  ;  all 
the  market  is  not  at  their  command  ;  all  the  fruits 
of  the  earth  may  disappoint  their  promise  ;  and  that 
there  is  as  much  need  of  good  humour  in  the  coun- 
try as  in  any  place  under  heaven.  Oh,  how  'weary, 
flat,  stale,  and  unprofitable'  life  is  without  an  allow- 
ing heart,  to  smile  on  apparent  wrongs,  and  to  have 
a  grateful  sense  of  God's  goodness  !  Bad  is  a  most 
precious  element,  and  enhances  the  good. 

Eighteenth. — Saw  a  dove. 

Nineteenth. — To-day  Anne  brought  in,  with  an 
air  of  triumph,  two  Pn(EBE-BiRDs,  sometimes  called 
pe-wees,  caught  in  the  loft  of  the  barn.  She  held 
one  in  each  hand,  while  their  black  heads  and  twink- 
ling eyes  appeared  out  of  the  port  hole  made  by  her 
thumb  and  fore-finger.  They  were  extremely  fright- 
ened, and  it  is  enough  to  touch  a  heart  of  stone  to 
see  a  little  bird  tremble.  Phcebe  always  builds  un- 
der cover;  the  wings  are  dusky,  bosom  brown,  and 
tail  slightly  emarginate.  It  is  a  modest  little  bird, 
of  a  plain,  Quaker  aspect,  and  with  nothing  particu- 


UPTHERIVER.  ]71 

lar  to  distinguish  it  ;  but  on  that  very  account  I 
have  always  admired  the  pe-wce.  For  although  he 
is  very  simple  in  his  manners,  and  has  no  voice,  and 
his  plumage  is  extremely  dusky,  he  is  one  of  the 
earliest  visitants  in  our  latitudes  in  the  spring-time 
of  the  year.  Beside  this,  he  throws  himself  on  your 
hospitality  and  protection  ;  and  if  you  have  a  spare 
shed,  or  loft,  or  barn,  in  w^hich  there  is  room  for  a 
nest,  there  the  PncEBE-bird  is  sure  to  come,  because 
he  must  be  under  cover.  I  was  lying  upon  the  sofa 
reading  Sir  Philip  Sidney's  Arcadia,  when  Anne 
came  in,  and  I  told  her  to  let  the  two  birds  go.  She 
opened  her  hands,  and  they  flew  about  the  room, 
dashing  against  the  window-panes,  the  looking- 
glass,  and  the  astral-lamp.  At  last  they  flew  out  of 
the  open  door,  and  returned  to  the  loft,  where  they 
are  now  building  a  nest.  Their  eggs  are  white, 
slightly  spotted  with  red. 

Twentieth. — The  day  being  balmy,  I  started  on 
a  pedestrian  excursion  through  the  woods  and  fields, 

and  along  the  river's  marge,  to  dine   with .     I 

was  within  half  a  mile  of  the  place,  walking  in  a 
narrow  road  which  lay  up  a  steep  hill,  and  on  the 
left  was  a  water-brook,  bordered  with  willows  and  a 
thick  wood.  The  wood  was  separated  from  the 
road  by  a  picket-fence.     Just  before   reaching  this 


172  UP    THE    III  VEIL 

spot,  I  met  at  short  intervals  tno  snakes.  The  first 
I  let  go.  He  was  a  garter-snake,  squirming  about 
in  the  dusty  path  But  the  other  I  killed,  and  tossed 
him  to  a  distance  on  the  ferule  of  my  cane.  The 
first  I  yielded  to  the  quality  of  mercy,  the  second 
sacrificed  to  the  sterner  attribute  of  justice.  Scarce- 
ly had  I  dispatched  him,  when  my  ear  caught  the 
sound  of  a  heavy  tramp  or  movement  in  the  grove — 
and  looking  in  the  direction  of  the  sound,  lo  !  an 
enormous  snapping-turtle,  with  outstretched  neck 
about  the  thickness  of  a  man's  wrist.  I  was  over 
the  pickets  in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye,  and  got  be- 
tween him  and  the  brook,  lest  he  should  scramble 
in.  He  did  not  budge.  I  stood  beside  him,  and  he 
was  my  prize.  Had  I  fished  for  hin:i  ten  years,  I 
never  should  have  got  him,  and  now,  as  I  looked 
down  upon  him,  was  astonished  at  his  magnitude. 
He  took  it  in  very  bad  part  that  he  was  captured, 
and  snapped  the  cane,  which  I  held  with  so  tight  a 
hold,  that  I  was  enabled  to  drag  him  into  the  mid- 
dle of  the  road.  He  was  no  turtle-dove  in  temper. 
His  tail  was  of  enormous  thickness  at  the  base,  and 
about  two-thirds  of  a  foot  in  length  ;  his  paws  of 
similar  proportions,  and  exceeding  fat ;  and  from 
the  tip  of  his  nose  to  the  tip  of  his  tail,  he  measured 
about  two  feet.     After  getting  him  on  his  back,  it 


UP    THE    Kl  \^Ell.  173 

was  a  subject  of  some  moments'  serious  reflection 
how  to  carry  with  immunity  this  great  monster, 
who  could  bite  off  a  man's  fino-er  in  the  twinkling- 
of  an  eye.  I  made  experiments  as  to  the  circum- 
ference in  which  his  claws  and  his  neck  could 
stretch  and  circumbend.  Then  I  seized  him  boldly 
by  the  tip-scales  of  his  tail,  and  lifting  him  from 
the  ground,  all  the  joints  and  articulations  of  that 
member  relaxing  one  after  another,  and  cracking 
under  his  great  weight,  I  carried  him  at  arm's- 
length,  now  in  the  right  hand,  now  in  the  left,  hav- 
ing much  precaution  for  the  calves  of  my  legs. 
Thus  I  got  him  to  the  house,  and  laid  him  on  the 
lawn  in  front  of  the  house,  on  his  back.  Here  a 
jury  was  summoned  to  decide  upon  his  merits  ;  and 
it  was  a  matter  of  argument  whether  to  bring  him 
at  once  to  the  block,  or  to  set  him  cruising  among 
the  tit-bits  of  the  slop-pail,  to  get  his  musk  out,  and 
qualify  him  for  the  future  tureen.  The  latter 
course  was  deemed  judicious.  He  weighed  eight 
pounds.     So  much  for  catching  a  turtle. 

TwEXTY-FiRST. — Notwithstanding  the  eddying 
clouds  of  dust,  and  the  damp,  raw  winds,  which  al- 
most cut  you  to  the  bone,  this  is  a  hopeful,  pleasant 
season  of  the  year.  The  natural  world  by  many  a 
sign  and  symptom  gives  notice  that  it  is  waking  up. 


1 74  UPTHERIVER. 

The  lively  and  loquacious  cackling  of  the  barn-yard 
fowls,  cutarcut !  responding  to  the  asseveration  of 
distant  cutarcut !  the  clarified  crow  of  the  roosters, 
the  perpetual  blaa-ing  of  calves,  the  familiar  scold- 
ing appeals  to  oxen  in  the  fields  :  '  Gee  !  haw  ! 
buck  !  You  know^  better  'n  that  !  I  tell  you  to 
haw  !  come  areound  !' — all  these  announce  that  the 
summer  is  nigh  at  hand.  About  the  twentieth  of 
March  the  bull-frogs  will  be  sometimes  out  in  full 
chorus  ;  at  least,  some  of  the  peepers,  but  the  eel- 
frogs  hang  back  until  it  is  time  to  bob  for  eels. 
These  make  a  trilling  sound,  very  different  from  the 
peepers  or  big  blood-an-oons.  It  is  like  the  contin- 
ued springing  of  a  watchman's  rattle.  The  bull- 
frogs, it  is  said,  come  out  several  times  and  go  back 
again.  They  must  see  their  way  clear  through  the 
bogs  before  venturing  permanently  out  of  the  pro- 
found mud.  It  is  an  adage  that  they  must  three 
times  look  through  their  spectacles,  or  glass  win- 
dows, (that  is,  through  the  ice,)  before  they  sing  in 
full  concert.  Then  the  peepers  begin  in  a  high  key, 
with  a  singularly  sweet  and  lucid  voice,  somewhere 
betwixt  a  silver-w^histle  and  a  glass-bell,  smackino 
little  of  the  mud  :  "  Eep-eep-eep  !  ee  ee-ee  !  eepee  ! 
eepee-peepeep  !  peep-eep  !  eepepee  !  eepepee  !  ee 
pepee  !'  accompanied  by  a  few-  trills  long  continued, 


UP    THE     III  VEIL  175 

and  a  whole  rabble  of  gluckers  ;  but  the  big  bas- 
soon accompaniment  comes  afterward,  and  then  you 
hear  all  the  several  kinds  at  once,  an  entertainment 
not  unpleasing  to  musical  ears  : 

'  Gluckluck  !  gluckluck  !  gluckluck!  Luckluck  !  luckluck  !  luckkluck  !  Uck- 
luck  !  uckluck  !  uckluck  !  Goluck  !  goluck!  goluck  !  goluck  !  Goluckle  !  goluckle! 
goluckle!  Gluckle  !  gluckle!  Locklock  glock  glock  glock  glock  !  Ukukukuk! 
Ukker,  ukker  !  gluck  luck  !  Eep  !  eep  !  eep !  eep  !  eep  !  eep  !  eep  !  cep  !  Ur 
r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r!  Doubloon!  Doubloon — oonloon!  oon  !  gluckluck  !  gluckluck 
eep  I  eep !  weep  !  peep-peep !  peep-peep  !  Kax-kax  !  kax-kax-kekek,  kckek 
Ek-ek !  ek-ek  !  Brek-kek !  brek-kek  !  Kwax-kwax  !  kuax-kuas  !  uk-uk  !  uk-uk- 
uk  !  kuax-kuax  !  ek-ek !  ek-ek,  uk-uk,  gluckluck,  gluckluck,  goluckle,  goluckle, 
goluckle,  quockle-quockle,  quocKle-quockle !  Ockle,  ockle,  ockleockle !  Ocka- 
ooka  !  ocka,  ocka,  lockle,  lockle,  ockalockle,  ockalockle !  Ockwog,  eepeep,  eep 
eep  !— BOLOONK !  Boloonx Bloonk!  Enck!  blockblock,  blockblock,  block- 
block,  ockalocle,  bluckbluck  golucklegoluckle  gluckgluk  ukukuk  kuax  kuax  kuax  !' 

And  so  they  go  on,  not  to  do  them  injustice,  all 
night  long,  to  the  best  of  their  ability,  singing  their 
Maker's  praises  in  their  marshy  paradise.  When  I 
have  sometimes  looked  at  The  unsightly  swamp, 
the  quaking  bogs,  the  stagnant  muck,  and  all  the 
green  and  grassy  scum,  the  nursing-place  of  chills, 
quatern  agues,  typhus,  typhoid,  intermittent,  remit- 
tent, and  bilious  fever,  it  is  a  wonder  that  music 
should  proceed  from  such  a  dismal  theatre.  Do  the 
epicures  know  that  they  are  eating  poison  with  the 
hind-legs  of  bull-frogs  ?  Then  let  this  insinuation 
cause  them  to  desist  ;  or  if  not,  at  least  a  feeling  of 


176  UPTHE     RIVER. 

shame  when  they  discover  the  slender  bones  on 
which  the  small  amount  of  delicate  flesh  gathers 
Is  it  worth  while  for  a  gluttonous  stomach  to  send 
out  deputies  to  hunt  the  marshes  for  the  mere  hind- 
legs  of  these  creatures,  butchering  off  whole  orches- 
tras in  a  single  day?  Were  I  the  owner  of  a  pond 
of  bull-frogs,  I  would  sue  a  poacher  for  killing  my 
bull-frogs  as  quickly  as  for  killing  my  bobolinks.  It 
is  a  sickly  and  depraved  appetite  w^hich  must  feed 
on  nightingales.  The  winding  and  transparent  cells 
of  the  ingeniously-constructed  ear  require  food  for 
their  dig-estion  as  much  as  the  bisr  dark  cavern  of 
the  stomach,  where  the  bull-dog  gastric-juices  of  a 
hale  man  will  tear  to  pieces  the  stoutest  inte'gu- 
ments,  or  even  nails,  as  quick  as  vinegar  will  dis- 
solve pearls.  In  all  probability  the  ear  will  be 
starved,  if  the  hunting-grounds  are  limited  to  the 
edge  of  marshes,  and  if  the  game-laws  have  no  re- 
ference to  bull-dogs.  It  is  pardonable  to  knock 
dogs  in  the  head  W'ith  bludgeons  during  the  dog- 
days  :   for 

•  Dogs  delight  to  bark  and  bite  ; 
It  is  their  nature,  too.' 

But  buU-irugs  do  no  harm,  except   when   eaten — 
and    then    they're    poison :    the    wind    under    their 


UP    THE    mVER.  177 

cheeks  is  full  of  fever  and  ague.  It  is  much  more 
pleasant  to  hear  their  paludinal  hi'ek-kek,  hrek-kek! 
kuaxkuax !  upon  a  summer  evening-,  than  to  see 
their  legs  served  up  at  the  tables  of  the  effeminate. 
It  it  amusing  to  walk  upon  the  water's  edge,  and 
mark  their  big  probulgent  green  eyes  sticking  out 
from  where  they  sun  themselves,  on  a  stone  or  a 
peninsular-bog,  or  leap  off  severally,  with  a  shrill 
and  startling  koax !  when  footsteps  shake  the  sod. 
There  is  one  experiment  worth  trying.  Select  a  big 
full-grown  bull-frog,  approach  softly  in  the  rear — 
no,  first  go  into  the  house,  and  ask  if  there  is  such 
a  thing  in  it  as  a  feather-bed,  for  feather-beds  are 
so  disagreeable  and  unhealthy,  that  they  are  some- 
what out  of  fashion.  But  in  many  places  in  the 
country  they  still  use  them,  especially  in  the  guest- 
chamber,  in  July  and  August — feather  beds  and  cot- 
ton sheets.  Tell  the  landlady  that  you  want  a  fea- 
ther, if  she  can  spare  one,  to  try  an  experiment  with 
a  bull-frog.  She  will  of  course  ask  you  what  you 
want  to  do  with  a  bull-frog,  and  try  to  laugh  you 
out  of  it.  It  is  no  matter  ;  if  there  is  no  feather 
bed,  then  you  go  into  the  barn-yard,  and  look  about 
until  you  have  found  a  piece  of  down.  If  you  can- 
not find  any,  return  home  and  obtain  a  quill,  unless 
you  make  use  of  steel-pens.     In   that  case,  call  at 


178  UPTHERIVER 

any  farmer's,  and  buy  a  small  quill.  Let  no  proud 
utilitarian  sneer  at  the  very  idea  of  making  an  ex- 
periment with  bull-frogs.  They  illustrate  galvan- 
ism, but  this  experiment  has  no  reference  whatever 
to  galvanism.  It  is,  however,  curious.  It  has  been 
tried,  and  if  dexterously  performed,  it  will  succeed. 
You  take  the  quill  in  your  hand,  approach  the  frog 
softly  in  the  rear — perhaps  he  is  one  of  those  gor- 
geous and  ornamental  ones,  tricked  out  in  gold  ear- 
rings ;  all  the  better.  Don't  let  him  steal  a  march 
on  you,  and  hop  so  suddenly  as  to  frighten  you  out 
of  your  wits,  and  get  your  foot  wet.  Go  behind 
him,  and  gently  tickle  him  with  the  feather  on  the 
back  of  his  head.  He  will  not  budge  ;  on  the  con- 
trary, he  will  whine  and  cry  most  piteously,  just 
like  a  little  child  :  '  Aigli !  yaigh  !  yaigh  !  yaigh  .'' 
If  you  go  too  fast,  he  will  click  his  jaws  two  or 
three  times,  crying,  '  Inwi  !  imm  !  ivimur  /'  and 
then  souse  down  with  a  hlockhluck  !    splash  ! 

The  largest  bull-frogs  which  I  have  ever  known 
are  on  the  coasts  of  Connecticut  in  the  town  of 
Norwalk.  Sitting  on  the  piazza  of  the  hotel  a  sum- 
mer or  two  ago,  I  heard  them  toward  sun-down 
from  their  head-quarters  in  the  neighbouring  mill- 
pond  ;  '  Doub-le-oon  !  double-oon  I  doubleoon  !' 
The  noise  which    they  make  is  astounding,  full  as 


UP    T  il  E     RIVER. 


179 


Joud  as  an  ordinary  Bashan  bull  ;  and  if  it  could  be 
controlled,  might  be  made  use  of  for  practical  pur- 
poses, to  call  men  from  factories.  They  are  about 
as  large  as  a  grown  rabbit,  and  the  nativity  of  the 
oldest  must  date  back  as  far  as  to  the  days  of  Cot- 
ton Mather,  or  the  Rev.  Jonathan  Edwards.  The 
supply  of  wind  in  their  cheeks  is  almost  equal  to 
that  of  a  small  organ  in  a  country  church.  The 
compass  of  their  voice  is  about  three  miles,  and  all 
their  dimensions  exaggerated  in  the  extreme. 


XII 


April  2C 


WAS  much  amus- 
ed to-day  by  the 
antics  of  a  herd 
of  young  heifers 
■who  held  posses- 
sion of  a  wheat- 
fiekl,  led  on  by 
the  pertinacity  of 
a  little  bull.  His 
forehead  was  just 
turgescent  with 
the  coming  horns, 
but  he  roared 
with  the  lusty 
^^^i--vr^<M-voice  of  a  young  lion,  and 
-^ii^^  '-galloped  furiously  from  pur- 
suit, throwing  up  the   clods    and  waving  his  tail    in 


""^Hn.'v. 


UP    THE    RIVER.  181 

the  air.  I  was  walking  in  the  garden,  looking  with 
a  hopeful  eye  upon  the  sprouting  dock-leaves  and 
the  peeping  buds  of  the  gooseberry-bushes,  when 
awakened  from  my  meditations  by  loud  bellowing, 
accompanied  by  the  cry  of  '  Coof  !  coof  !'  and  the 
angry  protestations  of  the  farmer  and  his  boys.  The 
field  of  wheat  was  green  and  tempting,  presenting 
a  solitary  patch  of  verdure,  for  the  hardy  blade 
flourishes  in  the  cold  soil.  It  had  already  solicited 
the  appetite  of  a  street-hog,  who  would  make  his 
daily  inroad,  nudging  up  the  bars  with  his  strong 
snout,  or  squeezing  his  body  underneath  them  through 
a  narrow  space,  enough  to  break  his  bones,  or  tear 
out  all  the  bristles  on  his  back.  Day  by  day  the 
porker  was  driven  from  the  field,  but  to  tlie  young 
heifers  the  green  blade  was  so  appetizing  that  they 
were  loth  to  give  it  up.  The  Farmer  had  taken  down 
the  bars,  and  several  times,  with  great  industry,  got 
the  cattle  in  a  corner,  when  the  little  bull  impatiently 
threw  up  his  heels,  rushed  past  the  guards  with  ir- 
resistible violence,  and  immediately  the  whole  herd 
broke.  This  process  was  repeated  half  a  dozen 
times,  until  the  success  of  the  rebellion  and  resolute 
conduct  of  the  heifers  invested  the  affair  with  a  de- 
gree of  excitement.  Sitting  on  a  rail,  I  laughed 
at  the  angry  farmers,  and  wished  well  to  the  efforts 


182  UP    THE    RIVER 

of  the  ring-leader  bull.  With  what  appetite  the 
flock  grazed  in  the  field  corners  when  the  pursuers 
were  afar  off! — and  on  the  approach  of  the  latter, 
the  irruption  was  like  that  of  bufl^aloeson  the  plains. 
It  was  not  without  great  uproar,  and  the  calling  in 
of  additional  help,  and  repeated  cries  of  *  Coof  ! 
coof !'  and  the  exhaustion  of  the  bucolic  vocabulary, 
that  they  were  got  out  of  the  enclosures,  the  rex 
gregis  leaving  them  with  a  flying  vault  and  angry 
toss  of  the  head.  No  doubt  they  preferred  the  suc- 
culent pasture  to  solitary  cud-chewing  in  the  stall. 
Poor  little  bull  !  In  a  week  after,  a  rope  was  fast- 
ened about  his  neck,  passed  through  an  iron  ring  in 
the  barn-floor,  and  I  heard  his  smothered  bellowings 
as  his  hornless  head  was  drawn  down,  and  the  clat- 
tering noise  which  his  hoofs  made  in  his  heavy  fall. 
Procumhit  humi  bos. 

I  once  witnessed  the  breaking  of  an  immense 
herd  of  cattle  coming  from  Weehawken  down  the 
hills  to  Hoboken.  They  tore  through  the  streets  of 
Jersey  City  with  terrific  violence,  tossing  up  on 
their  horns  any  stray  child  or  old  woman  who  could 
not  get  out  of  the  way.  Pedestrians  hammered  at  tiie 
locked-up  gates  for  admission,  and  nimbleness  took 
possession  of  the  knees  which  had  bidden  farewell 
to  the  springing  elasticity  of  youth.     It  was  a  Sun- 


UP    THE    IIIVER  183 

day  eve,  when  the  population  was  all  in  motion,  and 
women  wore  the  most  variegated  colours  on  their 
way  to  church.  Until  mid-night  I  heard  the  hoofs 
of  the  horsemen  clattering  through  the  streets,  and 
the  echo  of  the  herdsmen's  voices  among  the  hills, 
collecting  the  cattle  with  those  well-known  coaxing 
cries  and  objurgations  known  to  them.  In  all  other 
respects,  the  evening  was  invested  with  a  sacred 
stillness. 

It  has  become  a  moot  point  whether  we  ought  to 
feast  upon  the  flesh  of  beasts.  And  never  are  we 
more  inclined  to  take  the  negative  of  the  question 
than  when  appetite  begins  to  flag  on  the  approach 
of  summer,  and  the  green  and  crisp  things  of  the 
earth  abound  in  gardens,  and,  one  by  one,  the  fruits 
for  whose  prosperity  we  have  been  so  long  praying, 
'that  in  due  time  we  may  enjoy  them,'  appeal  to 
the  eye  in  the  ruddy  flush  of  their  ripeness,  to  the 
smell  by  their  pervading  fragrance,  and  to  the  taste 
by  their  luscious  flavor.  Then  do  we  turn  away 
from  the  steaming  kitchen  with  disgust,  and  abhor 
the  greasy  feast  as  we  would  the  lapping  of  train- 
oil.  Where  the  whole  country  is  a  vast  ice-house, 
vegetation  does  not  exist,  and  the  body  craves  un- 
guents ;  and  even  if  roots  and  tender  vegetables 
could    be    obtained,    they  would   not   suffice   for   its 


184  UP    THE    RIVER. 

protection.  While  the  summer  lasts,  we  think  it 
may  possibly  be  sinful  to  consume  flesh,  but  to  feed 
upon  it  the  year  round  is  enough  to  turn  men  into 
brutes.  Show  us  a  tender-hearted  butcher,  and  he 
shall  have  a  gold  cup,  or  ought  to  have  one.  Will 
he  let  the  calves'  heads  hang  out  of  the  wagon,  and 
their  soft  black  eyes  be  extirpated  by  the  grazing 
wheel  ?  Will  he  not  bear  the  lambs  to  slaughter  in 
comfortable  positions,  and  '  gently  lead  those  which 
are  with  young  V  Then  may  he  ask  for  the  hand 
of  the  shepherd's  daughter,  and  not  till  then. 

But  1  say  that  when  the  weather  becomes  hot, 
'  much  meat  I  not  desire.'  It  is  the  favorite 
roosting-place  of  flies,  which  make  the  very  oint- 
ment of  the  apothecary  to  smell  bad.  Bread  and 
butter  is  a  theme,  however  homely,  on  which  a 
volume  might  be  written.  Although  the  appetite 
may  tire  of  other  things,  on  this  substantial  ground 
it  makes  a  stand.  It  must  be  trained  to  the  lil^ng 
of  far-fetched  cookery,  while  the  taste  acquired  at 
so  much  pains,  departs  suddenly.  Civilized  men 
enjoy  one  kind  of  food,  and  cannibals  another.  Some 
are  very  simple  in  their  habits,  and  like  the  boy, 
Cyrus,  at  the  courtly  table  of  his  grand-father, 
wonder  at  the  multitude  of  dishes.  But  no  man. 
Christian   or  heathen,    ever  quarrels  with  his  bread 


UP    THE    KIVEli.  185 

and  butler.  It  is  acceptable  the  year  round,  and 
the  taste  for  it  is  universal,  and  never  palls.  You 
cannot  eat  it  to  a  surfeit,  or  ever  return  1o  it  with  dis- 
gust, [f  it  is  of  a  bad  quality,  that  does  not  destroy 
your  affection.  You  blame  the  baker,  but  stick  to 
the  bread.  Good  bread  and  butter  in  the  summer 
time  are  peculiarly  delicious, — the  very  staff  of  life. 
When  the  flour  is  of  the  finest  wheat,  the  yeast  of 
a  buoyant  nature,  and  the  loaf,  with  its  crust  properly 
baked,  has  the  whiteness  of  snow  and  lightness  of  a 
sponge;  when  the  butter  has  the  flavour  of  the  fresh 
grass  and  the  colour  of  new-minted  gold,  eat  to  your 
heart's  content,  and  desire  nothing  else.  When  you 
have  come  in  at  the  noon-tide  hour,  wearied  with  your 
expedition  to  the  mountain-top,  your  walk  in  the 
woods,  your  sail  on  the  lake,  or  your  botanizing  in 
the  meadows  ;  when  you  have  laboured  faithfully  in 
the  garden,  rooting  out  the  weeds  from  the  cucum- 
bers and  green  peas,  the  sweet-corn  and  cauliflowers, 
which  are  to  grace  your  table,  contracting  a  sharp 
appetite  from  the  smell  of  the  mould  ;  when  you 
have  returned  with  wood-cock  from  the  swamp,  or 
have  been  '  a  fishynge  ;'  and  then  the  golden  butter 
and  fresh  bread  are  set  before  you,  garnished  per- 
haps with  a  well-dressed  lettuce,  or  a  few  short-top 
scarlet  radishes,  each  crackling  and  brittle  as  glass, 


186  UP    THE     RIVE  11. 

well  may  you  diadain  the  aid  of  cooks,  for  it  is  a 
feast  which  an  anchorite  might  not  refuse,  and  which 
an  epicure  might  envy  ! 


May  20. — At  the  close  of  a  sultry  day  it  had  rain- 
ed copiously,  and  just  as  the  violence  of  the  storm 
abated  into  a  soft  and  melting  shower,  the  setting 
sun  burst  forth  with  brilliance,  edging  the  dark 
clouds  with  a  superb  phylactery,  and  presently  there 
sprang  across  the  sky  a  rain-bow  of  surpassing 
beauty.  Each  time  that  it  is  newly  bent,  we  wel- 
come it  anew — most  precious  emblem  ! — and  almost 
fancy  that  we  see  the  plumes  of  climbing  angels  on 
this  Jacob's  ladder.  For  it  shines  undimmed,  un 
faded  in  its  primal  light,  as  when  it  over-arched 
the  lessening  flood,  and  the  weary  dove  first  nestled 
among  the  green  olive-branches. 

I  have  stood  by  the  mountain  stream,  and  day  by 
day  heard  the  sound  of  the  chisel  and  ringing  of  the 
workman's  hammer,  and  after  a  long  time  have  see.n 
the  solid  arch,  a  miracle  of  human  art,  thrown  over 
the  fearful  gulf  or  over  the  very  brows  of  the  misty 
cataract.  But  now,  while  you  cast  down  your  eyes 
and  lift  them  up  again,  the  vacant  chasm  of  the  air 
is  over-bridged    with   slabs  of  radiant  colours,  with 


UP     THE     HIVE  R.  187 

not  more  sound  than  of  the  falling  feather  ;  for  lo  ! 
you  say,  '  There  is  a  rainbow  in  the  sky  !'  All 
great  things  are  clone  without  noise,  and  the  processes 
of  Nature  are  all  silent.  Sitting  at  the  gate  of  '  the 
Temple  which  is  called  Beautiful,'  you  see  the  great 
halls  of  the  Creation  festooned  with  glory,  and  yet 
you  could  not  tell  when  the  blade  shot  up,  or  when 
the  plant  bloomed,  or  when  the  tree  budded.  It  is 
like  the  breaking  out  of  the  morning  light,  beam 
upon  beam  ;  it  is  like  the  declension  of  evening, 
shadow  upon  shadow.  And  so  I  thought  while  look- 
ing out  upon  the  bursting  vegetation.  The  wet 
grass  sparkled  ;  the  cups  of  the  flowers  were  brim- 
ming full  ;  the  streams  fell  with  a  tinkling  sound 
into  the  cisterns  at  the  house  corners  ;  the  trees 
dripped  down  the  dews,  all  sweetened  with  the  blos- 
soms of  the  lilac  and  the  apple  ;  the  birds  trimmed 
their  gay  plumage,  and  the  stems  were  lifted  up, 
and  all  things  wore  a  refreshed  look,  when  suddenly 
out  of  the  ink-black  clouds,  over  against  the  golden 
sun,  I  beheld  the  broad  sweep  of  that  celestial  arc 
— its  beautiful  beams  laid  deep  down  in  the  blue 
wateKS,  and  its  splendid  key-stone  at  the  very  zenith 
of  the  heavens  ! 

At   such   times,  we  think  of  the    marvellous   and 
exact  analogy  which  there  is  between  the  moral  and 


188  UP    THE    III  VER 

the]  hysical,  and  that  both  without  and  within  there  is 
a  succession  of  the  like  changes,  contrasts,  relations, 
movements.  In  either  province,  lights  and  sha- 
dows make  up  all  the  pictures  which  we  know.  For 
there  is  a  dark  and  lonesome  winter  of  the  soul,  but 
soon  we  come  again  upon  a  belted  space  of  more 
than  vernal  loveliness,  when  pleasant  influences, 
graces  of  life,  and  all-abounding  charities  lie  in  our 
path,  just  like  the  sweet  procession  of  the  flowers  ; 
spring-times  of  youth  and  beauty,  when  all  goes 
merry  as  a  mairiage-bell  ;  and  if  at  times  we  glide 
into  the  eclipse  of  sorrow,  or  struggle  in  the  chok- 
ing flood,  once  more  the  sun-shine  breaks  upon  the 
scene  and  paints  the  sign  of  heavenly  promise.  Oh  ! 
when  we  think  of  what  the  rain-bow  is  the  pledge, 
does  it  not  seem  appropriate  that  it  should  be  the 
ideal  of  beauty  ? 

«  The  airy  child  of  vapoiir  and  the  sun, 
Brought  forth  in  purple,  cradled  in  vermillion  ; 
Baptized  in  molten  gold,  and  swathed  in  dun  ' 

It  is  because  the  Word  of  God  can  never  fail,  that 
those  colours  are  never  faded  ;  and  still  they  glow, 
and  burn,  and  flicker  from  our  sight,  only  to  return 
again  when  the  sky  looks  dark,  with  brighter  pro- 
mise.    Thus,  CnAMPOLLioN-like,  we  sit  down  to  in 


UP    THE    RIVER  189 

terpret  the  most  beautiful  hieroglyphics,  because 
we  must  look  upon  every  outward  phenomenon  as  a 
transfer  into  symbol  of  some  deep  and  spiritual 
truth.  For  the  whole  world  is  a  myth,  and  every 
thing  which  it  contains  is  an  emblem.  Oh !  that 
picture-language  of  the  sky,  the  air,  the  sea,  the 
earth,  the  flowers  !  Oh  !  that  matter-full  page,  so 
inscribed  with  eloquence  and  with  inspired  poem  ! 
From  the  high  mountain-top  I  read  onward  to  the 
horizon's  edge,  and  the  rocks  stand  like  antiquated 
characters  ;  and  every  water-fall  is  a  silver  dash  ; 
and  every  stream  is  like  the  transcription  of  a  flow- 
ing pencil.  In  the  enamelled  mead  I  walk  along  as 
one  who  holds  a  volume  in  his  hand,  all  thickly 
pencilled  with  mysterious  characters,  passing  from 
leaf  to  leaf,  from  flower  to  painted  flower,  transfer- 
ring each  to  some  celestial  grace,  meeting  at  every 
step  a  benediction.  It  is  the  one  language  which 
all  may  read,  and  to  the  dumb  with  astonishment 
holds  up  fingers.  The  soul  of  the  rose  flits  in  fra- 
grance from  its  falling  petals.  All  that  is  bright 
must  fade  ;  but,  as  the  poet  has  it,  the  very 

'  ashes  of  tlie  just 


Smell  sweet,  and  blossom  in  the  dust.' 
The  vine   clambers   to  the   liighrst   point,   but  its 


190  UP    THE    RIVE  11. 

supplicating  tendrils  still  stretch  upward.  So  the 
affections  wind  themselves  about  the  strongest  ob- 
jects of  the  earth,  while  their  tenderest  fibres  seek 
support  from  heaven.  As  in  the  unruffled  stream 
I  see  the  skies  mirrored,  tint  for  tint,  and  shadow 
for  shadow,  so  there  is  no  transcript  of  a  better 
world,  save  in  a  tranquil  bosom.  Walk  in  the  quiet 
woods  at  noon-tide,  guided  in  your  path  by  the  faint 
hint  of  former  footsteps,  brushing  from  before  you 
the  briers  which  almost  at  every  step  encrown  your 
head  with  thorns,  as  well  as  the  silver  thread  of 
spider  swaying  in  the  breeze  ;  and  there  too,  you 
will  find 

•  Books  in  the  running  brooks,  sermons  in  stones, 
And  good  in  every  thing.' 

Viewed  in  this  light,  the  volume  before  us  has 
multitudinous  pages,  and  there  is  no  end  of  our 
studies  ;  but  when  I  look  upon  a  rain-bow  in  the  sky, 
it  appears  the  most  speaking  and  exquisite  of  all 
emblems  :  the  gem-poem  of  the  mythology  of  nature. 
Walking  beneath  that  superb  bridge,  you  may  pick 
up  pebbles,  dip  your  feet  in  the  running  water-brook, 
and  muse  to  your  heart's  content.  Above  you  are 
all  the  several  beams  which,  blent  together,  make 
up  limpid  light,    all  being  severally  the  correspond- 


UP     THE    RIVER.  191 

ences  of  something  which  is  divine.  I  have  often 
thought,  when  the  waters  of  the  flood  had  well  sub- 
sided, and  the  rivers  rolled  in  their  own  channels, 
and  the  command  had  been  given  to  the  ocean  waves, 
'  Hither  shalt  thou  come,  and  no  farther,'  what  must 
have  been  the  feelings  of  the  sons  of  men  when,  for 
the  first  time,  they  contemplated  that  '  bow  in  the 
cloud;'  and,  as  it  appeared  time  after  time,  how  fa 
thers  took  their  children  by  the  hand  to  gaze  at  it. 
Yet  it  could  not  have  been  because  the  spectacle 
was  new,  but  because  it  was  known  to  be  an  em- 
blem. Adam  looked  upon  it  before  Noah,  for  the 
principle  of  its  formation  existed  already.  Great 
facts,  which  are  intended  for  the  soul  of  man,  are 
all  represented  in  nature  by  signs  of  the  utmost  ten- 
derness. Thus  w'e  have  the  resurrection  of  all  na- 
ture from  its  icy  tumulus,  the  superabundant  bloom 
and  beauty  of  the  spring.  If  there  were  not  any 
refined  state,  then  none  of  these  outer  forms  could 
exist,  as  every  type  must  have  its  antitype.  The 
sun,  the  clouds,  the  dews,  the  vapour,  are  but  the 
ministers  of  truth,  and  the  rainbow  is  an  arch- 
angel. 

'  To  him  •who  in  the  lovn  of  Nature  holds 
Communion  with  her  visible  forms,  she  speaks 
A  various  language.' 

We   may  perceive  the  coloration    of  rays   in    the 


192  VV    THE     RIVER. 

small  dew-drop  which  fills  up  the  cup  of  a  lily  ; 
nay,  in  the  very  tears  which  have  fallen  from  the 
eyes  of  some  poor  creature,  as  if  a  smile  lit  them 
before  they  were  dashed  away  by  kindness. 

I  once  saw  Niagara.  Once  ! — I  ever  see  it  ;  for 
the  image  of  its  greatness  and  majesty  cannot  pass 
away  or  cheat  the  memory  for  ever.  If  pastoral 
scenes  are  shifted  from  the  view,  and  Alps  may  be 
forgotten,  that  picture,  once  impressed,  remains  in- 
delible. Gazing  upon  the  awful  brink,  w^here  the 
late  agitated  waters  become  as  placid  as  the  unruf- 
fled lake,  before  they  take  the  plunge,  and  where 
the  very  spirit  of  the  cataract  appears  to  dwell,  I 
was  impressed  with  the  destructive  force  and  fury 
of  the  element  :  for,  except  at  that  momentous 
pause,  it  has  no  phase  of  gentleness,  but  is  envelop- 
ed in  vapour,  and  accompanied  by  the  unresembled 
noise  of  the  fall.  The  waves  of  the  sea  may  be 
appeased  and  calm,  but  the  thunder  of  Niagara  is 
unintermitted  ;  and  ever  above  the  gulf,  where  the 
mists  rise  like  incense,  while  the  earth  shakes,  and 
the  face  of  nature  speaks  only  of  great  convulsion, 
we  gaze  upon  the  perpetual  halo  of  the  bow  ;  and 
lest  the  setting  sun  should  take  the  spectacle  away, 
by  the  moon's  quiet  beams  it  is  seen  arching  an  en- 
chanted island.     And  tell  me,  have  you  never  walked 


UP    THE    RIVER.  193 

upon  the  margin  of  the  sea  itself  when  the  storm 
lowered,  and  fled  away  from  the  breakers  as  they 
rolled  shoreward,  and  afterward,  when  the  dazzling 
sun  came  out,  beheld  the  same  arc  in  its  complete 
formation,  with  one  of  its  abutments  on  the  solid 
land,  and  one  upon  the  deep  waters  ?  I  have  some- 
times seen  a  fragment  of  it,  and  the  same  luminous 
colours,  on  the  hot  breath  of  the  engines,  as  they 
rolled  onward  like  a  driven  thunder-bolt  :  and  as  if 
to  banish  unbelief,  wherever  the  power  of  the  ele- 
ment is  most  manifest,  and  wherever  Nature  is  en- 
throned in  majesty,  though  clouds  and  darkness 
may  hover  near  her,  '  there  is  a  rainbow  round 
about  her  throne.' 


June  10. — No  blight,  no  drought,  no  sweltering 
heats,  no  potato-bugs,  no  grasshopper  to  be  a  bur- 
den. This  is  the  gem  of  the  century,  the  pearl  of 
years.  It  runneth  faster  in  its  delightful  progres- 
sion, and  wins  the  crown  of  flowers.  How  its  car 
is  decked  !  The  twice-blooming  roses  are  in  its 
path.  Every  garden  is  a  reservoir,  every  secret 
path-way  a  conduit  of  sweets.  They  gush  into  the 
open  casement  ;   they   come   upon   the   general    air. 

All  the  waves  clap  their  hands,  and   the   little  hills 
0 


194  UP    TUB    RIVER. 

rejoice  on  every  side.  The  other  day  we  wandered 
up,  up,  up,  where  could  be  obtained  an  extensive 
*  eye-possession,'  and  encircled  by  the  blue  Kaats- 
kills  and  kindred  mountains,  whose  outlines  were 
discerned  at  the  distance  of  fifty  miles,  took  in  at 
a  glance  the  whole  gorgeous  picture  which  lay  be- 
tween. We  stood,  for  better  observation,  upon  the 
top  of  a  stone  fence  overrun  with  three-fingered  ivy, 
while  the  pony,  whose  halter  was  tied  to  a  branch 
of  the  oak  above,  pulled  the  leaves  into  his  mouth, 
and  champed  the  herbage  with  a  relish.  What  vast 
estates  lay  between  the  sloping  bases  of  those 
mountains  !  and  yet  on  a  space  no  larger  than 
would  be  included  by  the  circumference  of  a  signet 
ring,  even  upon  the  eye  itself,  was  transcribed  a 
most  perfect  representation  of  all  the  boasted  acres 
which  made  a  multitude  of  men  rich.  How  the 
properties  of  the  earth  do  dwindle  when  you  look  at 
them  from  a  high  point  !  for  the  boundaries  of  a 
nabob  appeared  to  us  like  a  railed-in  space  for  liie 
pasturage  of  a  few  cattle,  and  the  cloud-shadows 
trooped  over  the  area  of  a  kingdom  in  the  twinkling 
of  an  eye.  And  how  variegated  the  subdivisions  of 
the  landscape  ! — the  meadow  and  the  mellow  soil, 
the  woods,  the  waving  grain,  the  silver  stream,  and 
distant  river. 


U  P    THE    111  VEIL  195 

Sometimes  the  'moneth'  of  May  is  chill  and 
cheerless,  and  June  opens,  without  monition,  with 
wilting  heat.  The  buds  open  and  are  full-blown, 
and  fall  to  pieces  ;  the  herbage  loses  its  vivid 
freshness,  and  the  admirer  of  nature  relapses  into 
languor  while  the  year  is  at  its  prime.  Not  so  with 
this  choice  season,  this  most  unexceptionable  festive 
season.  The  pet  month  did  not  disappoint  its  pro- 
mise, dearly  associated  as  it  is  with  youth  and  beau- 
ty, with  memories  of  the  May-pole,  and  the  tender 
loves  of  '  Barbara  Allen.'  The  apple-orchards 
came  out  in  due  time,  and  the  spectacle  is  most 
charming  when  the  trees  are  in  full  bloom.  Ar- 
ranged at  equal  distances  on  the  sloping,  undulating 
ground,  and  in  the  hollows,  with  their  low  and 
spreading  crowns  all  covered  with  pink  and  snow- 
white  blossoms,  they  appear  to  me  like  big  bushes 
in  a  garden,  or  like  the  nosegays  of  a  giant.  For 
I  like  to  snuff  their  fragrance  while  sauntering  l>y 
the  road  side,  or  from  an  upper  window  to  look 
down  upon  a  long  and  gradual  slope,  on  which  an 
old  orchard  is  freshly  blooming,  while  the  sweet 
leaves  are  wafted  by  the  puff  of  every  breeze,  and 
the  green  germs  of  the  fruit  are  forming  underneath 
no  larger  than  pins'  heads.  Also,  the  welcome  lilac 
is  the  ornament  of  every  court-yard,    and   you   may 


196  UPTHERIVER. 

snap  off  a  branch  without  compunction,  and  stick 
it  in  a  pitcher,  if  the  fragrance  be  not  too  powerful 
for  feeble  nerves. 

It  is  now  the  tenth  of  June,  and  up  to  this  date 
we  have  had  neither  untimely  frost  nor  memorable 
days  of  heat  ;  but  it  has  been,  without  exception, 
the  most  balmy  season  within  my  recollection. 
There  has  not  been  a  single  drawback.  Copious 
showers  have  fallen  on  the  earth  ;  the  air  is  choice 
and  healthful  ;  even  in  the  heart  of  the  city  you 
have  been  able  to  find  a  refreshing  coolness,  and 
every  where  the  vegetation  is  so  rich,  the  crops  are 
so  far  advanced,  and  the  prospect  is  so  promising, 
that  we  might  with  justice  call  this  a  mirahilis 
annus. 

It  is  almost  intoxicating  to  walk  '  in  the  cool  of 
the  day  '  over  the  pleasant  roads  which  intersect 
the  country  in  all  directions,  and  especially  where 
they  wind  over  the  high  ground  in  full  view  of  the 
river  ;  or  to  recline  in  an  easy  carriage,  not  your 
own,  and  to  be  borne  along  by  a  pair  of  well 
groomed  horses,  whose  coats  are  sleek  and  well 
protected  by  the  clean  netting,  and  who  are  as 
gentle  as  doves  in  harness  ;  and  so,  without  a  word 
spoken,  with  your  head  bare,  and  with  a  soul  com- 
posed and  tranquil,   to  travel  through  avenues   and 


UP    THE     RIVER.  197 

green  lanes,  where  the  giant  elms  lift  their  arms 
above  you.  Nature  is  so  suggestive,  and  so  many 
pleasant  influences  steal  upon  you,  that  it  is  most 
perplexing  to  transfer  your  impressions  of  beauty, 
and  you  feel  only  fitted  for  silent  enjoyment. 

If  there  is  any  pleasant  feature  in  the  country,  it 
is  a  winding  narrow  lane  carpeted  with  a  green  sod, 
skirted  on  either  hand  with  mulberry  trees,  and  the 
wild  cherry,  over  which  the  brier  bushes,  the  wild 
grape,  and  the  ivy  and  honeysuckle  are  interlocked 
in  many  an  impenetrable  thicket  ;  places  which  the 
cat-bird  loves  to  frequent,  and  from  which  he  pours 
forth  his  mellow  and  melting  cavatina.  Here  is  the 
spot  where  the  young  man,  with  the  furze  just 
blackening  upon  the  lip  of  manhood,  passing  his 
arm  about  the  waist  of  the  pretty  maid,  whispers 
into  her  ear  the  most  tender  sentiments  ;  for  the 
very  birds  on  the  branches  teach  them  how  to  woo 
and  coo  most  lovingly.  Almost  every  village  has 
its  Love  Lane,  as  well  as  its  Gallows  Hill  and  But- 
termilk Hollow. 

In  the  course  of  your  wanderings,  you  will  ol)- 
serve  that  the  tulip  tree  is  now  covered  all  over 
with  yellow  flowers,  and  the  locusts  are  in  full 
bloom,  emitting  from  their  '  high  old '  crowns  a 
delicious  fraarance.      In  the  fields  the  clover  is  knee 


198  Ur    THE    HI  V  ER. 

deep,  and  the  cattle  dispose  themselves  in  easy 
attitudes,  and,  as  they  remain  dreamy  and  almost 
motionless  on  the  top  of  some  shady  knoll,  in  relief 
against  the  blue  sky,  afford  a  picture  of  grace  to  the 
eye  of  the  CLAUDE-like  painter.  But  the  anniversary 
of  the  blooming  roses  is  also  at  this  time,  and  you 
must  by  all  means  shut  up  your  workshops  and 
hurry  out  to  this  feast.  For  the  time  is  short.  In 
a  few  days  the  brief  and  beautiful  existence  of  the 
rose  is  terminated,  and.  Flora  gives  the  field  to 
Ceres  !  The  one  is  intended  to  administer  to  the 
sense  of  Beauty,  and  to  be  twined  in  a  triumphant 
chaplet  around  the  brows  of  Innocence  ;  the  other 
comes  upon  a  sterner  and  a  grander  mission,  to  fill 
the  granaries  with  bread  and  nerve  the  arm  with 
vigour. 

In  the  winter-time  a  few  rose-buds  cut  from  a 
green-house  where  they  had  been  fostered  under 
glass,  and  given  to  you  by  a  generous  friend,  stand 
perha])S  in  a  wine-glass  on  your  table,  and  represent 
the  summer.  You  tend  them  from  day  to  day,  and 
furnish  them  with  clean  water,  until  the  opening 
bud  feeds  no  longer  on  the  juice  of  the  stem,  and 
you  throw  them  out  of  your  window.  But  they  may 
have  sufficed  while  on  their  brief  errand  to  have 
soothed  your  soul  ;  and,  oh  !  to  a  man  of  guilt,  if  ho 


UP    THE    mVEK.  199 

has  any  particle  of  human  feeling-,  a  rose  in  his 
lonely  cell  would  preach  to  him  more  eloquently 
than  words,  and  he  could  wash  its  crest  with  his 
tears  like  a  shower  :  — 

*  Bring  flowers  to  the  captive's  lonely  cell : 
They  have  tales  of  the  joyous  woods  to  tell ; 
Of  the  free  blue  streams,  and  the  sunny  sky, 
And  the  bright  world  shut  from  his  languid  eye. 

But   when,    in   the   gradual   advancement   of  the 
year,  the  time  draws  nigh  which  is  monopolized  by 
this  choicest   and  most   exquisite  specimen  of  floral 
beauty  ;  when    the  wild,   untutored,    modest    May- 
rose,  with  its  multiplicity  of  pink  leaves,   has  given 
place   to  the  vaunted  varieties  whose  names  are  at 
the  tongue's  end  of  every  gardener  ;  when  the  un- 
cared-for one  which  grows  like  a  brier  by  the  way- 
side,   soon  drops   its   scanty  petals,    and   on   comes 
precipitately  the   glorious,    universal  bloom  of    the 
rich  and  double  flowers  which  have  received  culture 
and   they  crown  the  well-trimmed  stalk,   and  burst 
out   in    a  dissipation  of  beauty  over  the  porch,   the 
net-work  trellis,  and  the  garden  bower,  casting  forth 
their  very  souls  on  all  the  currents  of  the    summer 
air,    and  floating   into  your  olfactories,  climbing  up 
and  insinuating  themselves  into  the  windows  where 
you  converse,  sweetly  intruding  themselves  in  every 
covert  path,  wherever  you  wander  through  the   de- 


200  ^'r    THE    KIVER. 

licious  garden  ;  seen  at  the  tops  of  the  trees,  as  ye 
are,  O  Kentucky  roses  !  budding  and  bursting  out 
under  the  eaves  of  the  mansion,  where  the  little 
downy  bosom  of  the  just-hatched  chirping  birds 
heave  in  their  nests,  and  the  parents  drop  the  worm 
into  their  red  mouths,  unfrightened  by  the  play  of 
romping  children  ;  and  the  bumble-bee,  and  the 
honey-bee,  and  the  humming-bird  drink  together  out 
of  the  same  cup  of  intermingling  eglantine  ;  then  I 
say  that  you  must  let  your  soulexpand  with  a  calm  en- 
joyment, and  be  convinced  that  God  in  His  benevo- 
lence fashions  in  every  phase  of  existence  a  heaven 
for  us. 

There  is  now  a  very  prevalent  smell  of  mint  from 
the  meadows,  as  its  tender  stalks  are  bruised  by  the 
feet  of  cattle,  or  its  odours  are  dislodged  by  the  some- 
what rough  handling  of  the  freebooting  winds. 
Thirsty  people  like  to  bruise  it  against  little  ice- 
bergs, in  a  tumbler  with  wine  of  a  choice  quality, 
and  if  I  remember  rightly,  a  slight  paring  of  lemon 
and  a  straw-berry  or  two,  to  produce  a  curious 
composite  flavour,  and  so  imbibe  it  slow^ly  through 
a  wheaten-straw,  or  sometimes  a  glass  tube.  Whal 
the  advantage  of  this  mode  is,  does  not  appear 
clearly  ;  but  perhaps  the  volatile  aroma  of  the  herb 
following   in  the  wake  of  the  drops  which   clamber 


UP    THE    HIVE  R.  201 

up  the  tube,  more  gradually  and  pleasantly  insinu- 
ates itself  into  the  brain  than  when  it  sweeps  over 
the  sense  in  a  powerful  puff.  To  have  it  poured 
from  a  silver  pitcher,  on  whose  outer  surface  the  at- 
mosphere is  collected  in  cool  drops,  in  the  heat  of  a 
sultry  day,  and  offered  in  moderate  quantity  by  the 
fair  hands  which  have  concocted  it  with  skill  and 
with  a  scrupulous  mildness,  is  not  unacceptable  to 
those  who  make  use  of  such  fluids  ;  and  of  the  julep 
it  can  with  truth  be  said  that  it  contains  some  good 
ingredients — the  fragrant  mint  and  crystal  ice-drops. 
That  the  mint  has  medicinal  quality,  is  well  known. 
With  the  valetudinarian  cat  it  disputes  the  palm 
with  cat-nip  ;  and  when  covered  with  the  dews,  the 
sick  chicken  takes  a  little  nip  of  it. 

I  have  spoken  of  the  feast  of  roses,  but  the  feast 
of  straw-berries  must  be  remembered.  How  plenti- 
ful is  the  crop  !  In  tliis  happy  land  the  poor  taste 
of  delicacies,  and  the  horn  of  plenty  is  literally 
poured  out  with  its  profusion  of  fruits  and  flowers. 
Here  the  cows  come  home  at  night  with  their  hoofs 
actually  dripping  with  the  red  blood  of  this  berry,  and 
the  odours  of  it  float  over  the  snowy  foam  of  the  milk- 
pail.  It  grows  wild  in  all  the  woods  and  all  the 
meadows,  and  many  think  the  wilder  the  sweeter; 
for  as  it  is  smaller  in  size  than  the  seedlings  of  ihe 


202  UP    THE    RIVER. 

garden,  it  stands  a  better  chance  to  become  dead- 
ripe  and  lose  its  acid.  It  requires  no  addition,  and 
is  rendered  fit  to  eat  by  the  sugar  of  its  own  nature. 
In  flavour,  the  straw-berry  is  admitted  to  be  the  acme 
of  perfection,  and  it  has  probably  not  degenerated 
since  it  was  originated  in  Eden.  But  it  is  so  keen 
and  pungent  that  in  a  little  while  it  destroys  the 
tone  of  the  tongue,  whereas  the  rasp-berry  has  an 
exceedingly  delicate  aroma,  as  much  so  as  the  wild 
grape  blossom.  Its  merits  are  more  slowly  perceived, 
but  it  less  fatigues  the  taste,  and  is  longer  appre- 
ciated. There  is  a  pretty  notion  held  by  the  Indians 
called  the  "  Six  Nations,"  that  the  other  fruits  of 
the  earth  form  a  part  of  the  Great  Spirit's  ordinary 
bounty,  but  that  the  strawberry  is  a  special  gift. 
Hence  they  hold  a  feast  in  its  honour,  when  it  is 
offered  up  with  especial  ceremony  and  thanks- 
giving. The  succession  of  fruits  as  the  year  ad- 
vances, exhibits  an  adaptation  most  pleasing  and 
wonderful.  The  straws-berry  is  first  with  us,  and  its 
precedence  in  time  is  a  fair  presumption  in  favor  of 
its  ripe  merits.  Then  comes  the  rasp-berry.  These 
occupy  a  certain  space  mostly  to  themselves,  but 
when  they  are  gone,  a  rabble  of  fruits  jostle  one 
another  in  the  garden,  and  every  one  may  take  his 


UP     THE    RIVER.  203 

pick  and  choice.  The  English  ox-heart  cherry 
charms  the  eye  and  satisfies  the  taste,  esjDccially 
when  you  pluck  it  from  the  branch  as  it  hides  its 
blushing  cheek  beneath  the  leaves.  The  goose- 
berry and  tart  currant  arrive  in  the  very  nick  of 
time,  but  the  berries  taper  off  in  excellence  at  the 
close  of  the  year.  The  plain  and  healthful  black- 
berry is  succeeded  by  the  whortleberry,  the  poorest 
of  fruits — God  forgive  me  !  But,  in  the  meantime, 
the  larger  kinds  come  in  to  adapt  themselves  to 
every  variety  of  taste,  and  to  every  necessity  of 
constitution — peach,  plum,  and  grape. 


June  20. — While  walking  to-day  out  of  the  silent 
woods  into  a  sequestered  glen,  I  encountered  a  very 
distinct  and  truthful  echo.  Every  foot-fall  was  re- 
peated, and  if  you  called  Hylas,  Hylas  was  re- 
sponded. There  was  a  well-built  wall  of  rocks  in 
front,  and  happening  to  soliloquize  aloud,  it  was 
from  the  hard  and  flinty  surface  of  them  that  my 
own  words  were  thrown  back  with  an  almost  impu- 
dent celerity  : — 


204 


UP    THE    RIVER. 

'  Ye  woods  and 


« Woods  and- 


WUds- 


Wilds- 


•Echo!'- 


Ehol 


<IIa!  ha! 

{pathetically') 
•  Charley  ! 


'  Ah  !  ah  !- 


*  Chakley- 


' Clahk- 


«  Clark- 


Echo  is  a  playful  sprite,  sitting  high  up,  laugh- 
ing, weeping,  shrieking,  talking,  just  according  to 
the  mood  of  those  she  mocks  ;  feeding  on  the  sugar 
plums  and  saccharine  fragments  of  the  poets  thrown 
out  to  her  by  the  romantic  Delia  Cruscan  youth. 
Ent^offxtt'  ao/Saj,  Alas  !  that  Echo  is  not  every 
where,  to  let  us  know  that  our  words  come  back 
upon  us  ;  but  her  sportive  didactics  are  given  in  the 
amphitheatre  of  rocks.  Oh  that  liars  would  wander 
near  her  sylvan  nestling-places,  and  slanderers  tra- 
vel down  the  lonely  dell  where  their  utterances 
might  be  heard  by  their  own  ears  aloner,  and  re- 
turn   upon  them  to  knock  their  teeth   out  !     Every 


UP    THE    RIVER.  205 

thing  appears  to  be  reproduced,  and  each  transfor- 
mation to  be  more  spiritual  and  refined.  Is  there 
an  echo  of  the  '  voiceless  thought  V  There  is,  but 
more  impalpable,  so  that  spirits  only  may  appre- 
hend it.  The  burnished  glass  throws  back  the  face, 
and  the  streams  reflect  the  weeping  willows,  and 
most  delicately  has  the  Latin  poet  styled  sweet 
Echo  the  image  of  the  voice —  Vocis  imago.  Oh  ! 
how^  perfect  is  the  representation,  when  she  responds 
to  the  groans  of  the  Hamadryad  mourning  over  the 
fall  of  her  own  dear  tree,  for  whose  life  she  has  im- 
plored the  woodman  in  many  a  susurring  sigh  and 
whisper  among  its  branches!  'Woodman,  spare 
that  tree  !'  And  in  the  general  forest  she  returns 
answers  to  the  Dryad's  cries,  when  every  stroke  of 
the  flashing  axe  is  heard  again,  and  at  last  with  a 
crash  the  oak  falls  with  its  crown  of  glory,  and  the 
sacred  gloom  of  the  grove  is  violated,  and  the  most 
majestic  pillar  of  its  cathedral  is  overthrown.  There 
was  a  stately  tree  upon  the  hill-top  at  Tulipton, 
and  it  was  a  beacon  to  the  sailsman,  as  his  little 
boat  was  wafted  into  the  safe  cove,  but  in  an  evil 
day  the  hand  of  expediency  cut  it  down.  Great  in- 
deed was  the  fall  thereof ;  and  as  it  reached  the 
earth,  and  smothered  the  shrubs  and  wild  flowers 
which  had  been   sheltered  by  its  shade,   a  universal 


206  UPTHERIYER. 

wail  and  lamentation  was  heard  around,  and  the 
very  echoes  were  re-echoed  from  the  distant  hills 
In  fact,  the  curses  upon  those  Vandals  have  not  yet 
ceased.  There  is  an  echo  of  the  bee  in  clover,  and 
of  the  precious  music  of  the  bobolink  ;  but  when 
the  voice  of  flutes  in  concord  floats  on  the  air  of  eve 
with  melodies  which  touch  the  heart  ;  the  same 
'  which  once  in  Tara's  halls  the  soul  of  music 
shed  ;'  the  cadence  and  tlie  dying  fall  come  back 
with  swiftest  repetition,  as  if  too  sweet  to  die  away ; 
and  as  the  stars  glimmer  and  the  moon  sheds  down 
her  softened  light,  I  think  of  friends  departed  and 
of  days  gone  by.  So  have  I  heard  the  reverberations 
of  the  water-fall,  and  the  echoings  of  the  huntsman's 
horn, 

•  As  if  another  chase  ■were  in  the  sky,' 

and  have  listened  to  two  farmers  conversing  in  short 
interrogations  over  the  hedge,  or  separated  from 
each  other  by  the  length  of  a  field,  saying,  as  they 
placed  the  hollow  of  their  hands  at  the  corners  of 
their  mouths,  on  a  high  key  :  • 

'  When  are  you  going  to  mow  those  oats  r' 

Echo.     Mow  those  oata. 

'  To-morrow.' 

Echo.    To-morrow. 

'  Want  you  to  send  that  rake  by  the  boy.' 

Echo.    By  the  boy. 


UP    THE    IIIVER.  207 

•  Tell  him  to  bring  my  whip-lash.' 

Echo.     Plash. 
'  "What'll  you  take  for  that  yearlinf;^  heifer  ? 

Echo.     Lingafer. 

Two  Pounds.' 

Echo.     Two  pounds. 

Then  do  I  wander  away  from  this  shirt-sleeved 
couple,  whose  faces  are  bedewed  with  perspiration 
from  w^orking  in  the  fields  and  mowing  the  new  hay, 
with  Milton's  beautiful  apostrophe  echoing  on  my 
ears  from  the  hard  and  rocky  surface  of  the  times 
in  which  he  lived, 

'  Sweet  Echo,  sweetest  nymph,  that  livest  unseen 

"Within  thy  airy  shell, 
By  slow  Meander's  margent  green, 

And  in  the  violet-embroidered  vale, 
AVhere  the  love-lorn  nightingale 

Nightly  to  thee  her  sad  song  mourneth  well ; 
Canst  thou  not  tell  me  of  a  gentle  pair 

That  likest  thj'  Narcissus  are  ? 
Tell  me  but  where, 

Sweet  queen  of  parley,  daughter  of  the  sphere  ! 
So  mayest  thou  be  translated  to  the  skies, 
And  give  resounding  grace  to  all  heaven's  harmonies.' 


June  23. — In  a  secluded  cove  or  indentation  of 
the  shore,  where  the  trees  were  imaged  downward 
from  the  bank  upon  the  smooth  water,  I  observed 
a  pair  of  swans,  accompanied  by  four  beautiful 
cygnets,  lifting  their  snow-white   plumes  to  catch 


208  UP    THE    RIVER. 

the  breeze,  and  gliding  about  with  a  queen-like 
motion.  While  I  gazed  at  this  unsullied  group, 
which  seemed  to  be  native  to  the  spirit-land  rather 
than  something  earthly,  the  thumping  sound  pro- 
duced by  the  paddle-wheels  of  a  steamboat  began  to 
be  heard  ;  and  as  she  rounded  the  point,  the  water 
became  agitated  and  swelled  upon  the  shore.  At 
this  apparent  danger,  the  parent  bird  received  all 
the  four  cygnets  upon  her  back,  and  erecting  her 
trembling  wings  into  a  fan-like  shape,  sailed  away 
toward  the  green  sward — a  spectacle  of  ineffable 
grace  and  beauty.  I  have  noticed  these  birds  for 
two  years,  sometimes  near  the  shore,  but  oftener 
afar-off,  like  specks  of  white,  where  the  blue  wave 
seemed  to  mingle  with  the  horizon  ;  but  until  the 
present  season,  they  were  unattended  by  the 
cygnets.  They  now  form  a  pure  and  aristocratic 
society,  intermingling  their  snowy  necks  in  the 
most  affectionate  communion.  At  first  they  were 
placed  in  a  small  pond  for  safe  keeping;  but  when 
the  winter  broke  up,  catching  a  glimpse  of  the 
broad  waters  of  the  bay,  they  enterprised  in  that 
direction,  and  could  by  no  means  be  prevailed  upon 
to  return  to  the  little  pond.  They  left  it  in  the  pos- 
session of  the  ducks,  the  geese,  the  perch,  the 
pickerel,  and  the  mud-turtles,  and  went  to  share  the 


UP    THE    RIVER. 


209 


company  of  the  sleek  and  gracefuller  wild-fowl 
who  plumped  into  the  bay.  Generally,  however, 
they  prefer  to  keep  by  themselves,  and  show  in  all 
their  buoyant  air  and  gliding  grace  the  influence  of 
the  pure  and  upper  realms  in  which  they  have  been 
bred.  Oh,  how  superior  are  they  to  the  common- 
people  geese  !  Gazing  at  them  as  they  sail  about 
their  own  beautiful  cove,  whose  shores  are  like  a 
paradise,  I  am  reminded  of  the  honeyed,  almost 
celestial  poetry  of  the  spirit-rappers  : 

•  Angel  with  the  diadem  of  light, 

Wherefore  dost  thou  tread  this  vale  of  sorroAv  ? 
All  our  life  afflicts  thy  holy  sight ; 

Cheerless  is  the  life  from  earth  we  borrow. 

•  Straight  as  he  spoke  appeared  a  snow-white  swan, 

Floating  on  a  dark,  tumultuous  river  ;  , 

And  as  its  spotless  image  glided  on. 

It  trembled  like  a  star,  yet  shone  for  ever  ! 


XIII. 


ITHIN  the  past 
month      an    ex- 
citement       has 
prevailed  among 
the  quiet  inhab- 
itants  of  these 
parts  unparallel- 
t  ed  since  the  great 
oyster  -  war.  — 
ui.    ^        J  /  Every   one    has 
^"-^^  '  heard  of  the  in- 
roads once  made 
by    the    bucca- 
neering   fisher- 
men of  Amboy 
on  our  rich  oys- 
^■wM^^r-       —    ^-j^^r^^cis.-^j-'     ter-beds,    when 
the    adverse  fleets  had  hke  to  have  come  to  a  srreat 


UPTHEmVER.  211 

nautical  encounter.  But  although  some  guns  were 
pointed,  no  triggers  were  pulled,  and  no  shells  were 
thrown  of  the  kind  used  in  naval  warfare.  That 
chapter  in  history  has  never  been  written  out  fairly  ; 
but  let  by-gones  be  by-gones.  I  am  going  to  nab 
some  circumstances  while  they  are  yet  fresh,  and 
the  materials  attainable,  that  hereafter  they  may 
not  come  up  in  dim  memory  like  the  records  of  the 
oyster-war.  The  most  flagrant  depredations  ever 
known  in  the  history  of  man  have  lately  been  made 
on  the  hen-roosts  of  Dutchess  County.  Twelve 
hundred  dollars'  worth  of  chickens  stolen  in  one 
winter,  and  the  greatest  panic  among  all  holders  of 
the  stock  !     The  deed  was  done. 

'  Deeply  and  darkly  at  dead  of  night,' 

and  the  evil  was  waxing  worse  and  worse,  so  that 
out  of  the  multitude  of  populous  hen-roosts  in  the 
above  county  there  was  not  one  w^hich  had  not  suf- 
fered extremely.  Eggs  were  scarce  in  sufficient 
abundance  for  cakes  and  pies  :  one  farmer  was  re- 
duced to  his  last  little  chick,  while  the  cheerful 
cackle  of  farm  yards  was  scarce  heard.  The  cock- 
crowing  which  used  to  be  answered  at  dead  of  night 
from  hill  to  hill  and  hamlet  to  hamlet,  until  it  cir- 
cled the  whole    neighborhood,   as  the  British  drum- 


212  UPTHERIVER. 

beat  circles  the  world,  was  succeeded  by  a  dead 
silence,  and  no  clarion  was  heard  in  the  morning 
except  the  baker's  horn.  Little  as  the  farmers  were 
acquainted  with  natural  history,  they  knew  that  the 
chicken  is  not  a  bird  of  passage,  and  always  comes 
home  to  roost.  Their  hens  had  not  been  picking 
and  stealing,  but  they  had  been  stolen  and  picked. 
Who  had  done  the  fowl  deed  ?  That  was  what  the 
irritated  owners  were  burning  to  know ;  for  if  they 
could  catch  the  scoundrel  as  he  was  taking  wung, 
they  threatened  that  they  would  tar  and  feather 
him,  without  waiting  for  the  slow  process  of  the  law 
to  coop  him  up.  He  would  not  crow  over  his  bar- 
gain, nor  cackle  over  his  gains.  There  is  some- 
thing inconceivably  mean  and  sneaking  in  the  steal- 
ing of  chickens  ;  and  none  but  the  most  hardened 
rogue,  if  caught  with  one  under  his  jacket,  could 
exclaim  with  the  abandoned  Twitcher,  *  Vel,  vot 
of  it  V  '  Vot"  of  it  V  A  great  deal  of  it !  To  take  a 
horse  or  a  young  colt  is  a  bold  and  magnanimous 
piece  of  rascality,  and  if  the  equestrian  spark  can 
be  overtaken  by  the  telegraph  in  the  midst  of  his 
horse-back  exercise,  his  neck  may  be  put  in  requi- 
sition. That's  paying  a  high  price  for  a  horse,  as 
any  jocky  will  tell  you.     But  to  go  and  bag  a  fowl 


UPTHERIVEll.  213 

when   he  is  asleep  with  his  head  under  his  wing,    is 
the  part  of  a  chicken-hearted  fellow. 

Although  no  clue  had  been  obtained  to  these  de- 
predations, the  linger  of  suspicion  had  been  for  some 
time  pointed  at  one  Joseph  Antony.  Mr.  Antony, 
a  resident  of  the  city  of  New  York,  who  had  the 
appearance  of  a  sporting  character,  was  in  the  habit 
of  visiting  this  County  about  twice  a  week  in  a  small 
wagon,  to  see  his  friends  and  indulge  his  social 
qualities.  On  his  way  out,  he  stopped  at  all  the 
taverns  to  take  some  beverage,  although  in  return- 
ing he  was  abstemious  in  his  habits,  being  perhaps 
in  haste  to  return  to  an  anxious  wife.  But  it  was 
noticed  as  a  remarkable  coincidence  that  when  he 
came  and  went,  the  chickens  were  always  gone. 
Numbers  of  the  more  prying  to  confirm  their  suspicions 
had  sometimes  peeped  into  his  wagon,  where  they 
discovered  creatures  of  the  feathered  creation.  Once 
or  twice  he  had  his  horse  taken  by  the  halter,  but 
on  promptly  presenting  a  revolver,  (we  think  of 
Colt's  patent,)  he  obtained  liberty  to  pass.  The 
knowledge  of  the  fact  that  he  carried  arms  about 
his  person  had  the  effect  of  making  many  diffident 
who  had  otherwise  not  been  slow  in  their  advances. 

They  did  not  wish  to  take  this  St.  Antony's  fire, 
or  risk  their  bodies  and  souls  for  the  sake  of  a  few 


214  UP    THE    RIVER. 

spring-chicken,  no  matter  how  many  shillings  they 
were  worth  a  pair.  Mr.  Antony  therefore  had  the 
plank-road  to  himself.  On  another  occasion,  when 
he  was  returning,  well  provided  as  it  was  thought 
with  live  stock  for  the  market,  some  young  men  got 
up  a  plan  to  waylay  him  by  throwing  a  rope  over 
the  road.  This  endeavour  proved  abortive  :  for 
when  they  heard  the  sound  of  his  wheels  approach- 
ing ;  when  they  caught  a  glance  of  his  little  colt 
who  knew  the  ground  ;  and  when  they  thought  of 
the  little  Colt  which  he  carried  in  his  pocket,  their 
courage  caved  in,  and  they  fled  to  the  neighbouring 
woods  inhabited  by  owls. 

Thus  did  villainy  triumph,  and  the  henneries  con- 
tinued to  be  impoverished  by  a  consumption  unknown 
to  Thanksgiving  or  the  pip.  The  final  despair  of 
the  farmers  led  to  a  mutual  compact,  which  we  will 
call  the  He?is-eatic  League.  At  a  full  and  unani- 
mous meeting  of  the  chicken-owners  of  Dutchess 
County,  it  was  resolved  to  keep  a  very  strict  watch 
over  the  motions  of  Mr.  Antony  on  his  next  visit. 
Something  must  be  done,  and  that  immediately,  as 
the  boys  said  who  sat  under  a  tree  in  a  thunder- 
storm, when  one  asked  the  other  if  he  could  pray, 
otherwise  there  would  not  be  a  cock  to  crow,  nor  a 
hen   to   lay  an  egg  in  all   the   neighbourhood.     Ac- 


UP    THE    RIVER.  215 

cordingly,  on  the  afternoon  of  Friday  (unlucky  day  !) 
Mr.  Antony  was  observed  to  pass  through  the  gate 
at  which  he  stopped,  for  the  tollman  observed  that 
he  '  always  acted  very  gentlemanly,  and  always  was 
particular  to  pay  his  toll,  and  was  a  good-looking 
man,  only  his  eyes  was  too  big.'  The  following  in- 
tricate plan  was  then  hatched  :  Three  courageous 
men,  armed  with  muskets,  were  to  keep  the  gate 
that  night  and  receive  the  toll  of  Mr.  Antony  when 
he  came  back,  and,  if  possible,  '  prevail  on  him  to 
stop.'  They  took  their  stand  at  sun-down.  The 
remaining  chicken-owners  watched  all  night.  Mr. 
RussEL  Smith  sat  up  in  his  wagon-house ;  but  what 
is  very  queer,  Mr.  Antony  pulled  his  chickens  off 
the  perch  almost  under  his  nose,  without  his  know- 
ing it.  Six  expected  eggs  were  missing  at  his 
breakfast-table  next  morning.  But  Mr.  Suyd — m, 
who  lives  on  the  salt-meadows,  arranged  his  plan 
better.  To  the  door  of  his  hennery  he  attached  a 
string,  which  he  conducted  to  his  sleeping-chamber ; 
and  to  the  string  he  fastened  a  little  bell.  Then  he 
lay  down  to  keep  aw'ake.  He  heard  nothing  for  some 
hours,  until  what  ought  to  have  been  the  cock- 
crowing,  he  was  startled  suddenly 

'  By  the  tintinnabulation 
Of  the  bell,  bell,  beU, 
Which  did  musically  well.' 


216  UP    THE     RIVER. 

Springing-  from  his  couch,  he  placed  his  face  against 
the  window,  and  the  night  not  being  very  dark,  the 
following  tableaux  was  presented  :  A  little  wagon 
and  a  little  horse,  held  at  the  head  by  a  little  boy, 
and  in  the  wagon  a  woman  with  a  hood.  He  rushed 
to  the  hen-house  just  in  time  to  find  the  perches 
vacant  and  his  man  retreating,  who  forthwith 
seized  the  reins  and  drove  like  Jehu  toward  the 
long  bridge.  It  is  thought  that  a  part  of  the 
distance  was  accomplished  at  the  rate  of  a  mile  in 
three  minutes.  But  Mr.  Suyd — m  was  not  to  be  so 
baffled.  He  harnessed  his  mare,  and,  taking  Mr. 
Laurence  with  him,  followed  in  pursuit  at  full 
speed.  They  overtook  Mr.  Antony  at  the  bridge, 
where  he  was  engaged  in  killing  chickens,  and 
throwing  their  heads  over  the  balustrades  into  Mud 
Creek.  Finding  some  one  at  his  heels,  he  ceased 
killing  chickens,  applied  the  lash,  and  was  again 
out  of  sight.  But  although  out  of  sight  he  was  not 
out  of  mind.  On  approaching  the  toll-gate,  he  be- 
gan to  fumble  for  change  to  pay  honorably,  when, 
to  his  astonishment,  he  found  the  gates  shut,  and 
before  he  could  place  his  hand  on  his  revolver,  the 
muzzles  of  three  muskets  were  within  an  inch  of 
his  head. 

As  a  rat  who  has  left  his  hole  by  night  to  get  a 


UP    THE    RIVER.  217 

drink  of  water,  or  to  suck  a  few  eggs,  on  returning 
finds  it  stopped  up  with  a  brick,  and  himself  as- 
sailed, pauses  on  his  hind  legs  and  squeals,  so  did 
the  astonished  Antony  cry  out.  On  examining  the 
contents  of  his  wagon,  it  was  found  well  replenished 
with  fowls  ;  and  Mr.  Antony  frankly  confessed  that 
he  regretted  the  circumstance  of  his  capture,  as  he 
had  already  served  out  several  terms  at  the  State's- 
prison,  and  was  loth  to  go  there  again,  where 
Thanksgiving  fare  was  so  scarce. 

When  this  remarkable  capture  became  known  on 
the  next  morning,  and  the  prisoner  and  his  plunder 
were  brought  to  the  Justice's  Court,  great  interest 
was  excited  in  the  country  round.  They  came 
pouring  into  the  village  by  hundreds,  to  get  a  sight 
of  the  greatest  chicken-stealer  ever  known  since 
the  creation  of  fowls.  Nothing  like  it  was  remem- 
bered since  St.  George's  church,  in  the  same  place, 
was  broken  open,  and  the  justices,  and  the  wardens, 
and  the  vestrymen,  and  the  tavern-keeper,  were 
convened  in  the  bar-room  of  the  village  inn,  to  see 
a  pile  of  Bibles  and  prayer-books  on  the  sanded 
floor,  where  the  head  warden  remarked  to  the  re- 
pentant thief  that  he  was  sorry  he  had  not  used  the 
Bible  and  orayer-book  better.     On  the  examination 


218  ^'P    THE    RIVER. 

of  Mr.  Antony,  it  was  apprehended  that  there  might 
be    some   difficulty    about    the    identification  of  the 
fowl.     You  can  tell  your  horse,  your  ass,  your  cow, 
your   pig  ;   they   are    speckled,   they    are    streaked, 
they  have  a  patch  on  the  eye,   or  something  of  the 
kind.      But  as   to   your  chickens,   though  you  feed 
them  out  of  your  own  hand,    the    task  is  more  diffi- 
cult.    You  contemplate  them  not  by   units,   but  by 
broods,   and    single  them  out  one  by  one  only  when 
the  time  comes  to  wring  their  necks,  and  you  think 
that  a  roast  chicken  for  dinner  would  not  be  amiss. 
On  this  occasion  no  such  difficulty  occurred.     The 
roosts  had  become  so  thinned  that  the  farmers  were 
enabled  to  recognize  and  swear   to   iJieir   fowl,  one 
to  his  Bantam,  another  to  his  Shanghai,   a  third  to 
his   Top-knot,   a  fourth  to  his  Cochin-China,   and  a 
fifth  to  his  Poland  hen.     Although  their  heads  were 
twisted  off,  that  mattered  not    so    much,    since  fea- 
thered creatures  are  not  recognized  by  their   coun- 
tenances like  men.      They  are  all  beak,  little  head, 
and  have  no  particular  diversity  of  expression  to  be 
identified  except  by  themselves. 

Mr.  Antony  has  engaged  counsel  to  rebut  the 
prosecution  by  the  State,  and  it  will  depend  upon 
the  ability  w^ith  which  this   great   Hen-Roost   case 


UP     THE    RIVER.  219 

shall  be  managed,  whether  he  shall  be  finally 
knocked  from  his  perch  in  society,  whether  the 
plank-road  dividends  shall  be  diminished  by  the 
amount  of  his  toll,  and  whether  chickens,  like 
peach-trees,  shall  take  anew  start.  When  we  con- 
sider the  expensiveness  of  feeding  them,  and  the 
many  casualties  which  they  are  exposed  to  from 
the  time  they  are  fledged — snatched  into  the  air  by 
hawks,  fed  on  by  cats,  afflicted  by  the  pip,  and  by 
the  gapes,  it  is  to  be  ardently  hoped  that  some- 
thing may  be  done  to  protect  them  on  their  roosts. 
Otherwise  we  know  of  many  who  will  give  np  rais- 
ing fowls  ;  and  then,  we  ask,  what  is  to  become  of 
our  markets  if  'hen-sauce'  is  abolished;  and  what 
will  housewives  do  if  eggs  are  a  shilling  a-piece  ? 
The  most  delightful  puddings  known  to  the  present 
state  of  cookery  would  have  no  richness  without  the 
yolks  of  eggs.  Where  would  be  the  yellowness 
of  'spring'  (usually  denominated  '  grass ')  butter  ? 
Would  not  pound-cake  be  erased  from  the  cata- 
logue of  Miss  Leslie's  famous  book  ?  And  what 
would  become  of  the  icing  and  incrustation  of  orna- 
mental confectionery  ?  On  these  questions  the 
result  of  Mr.  Antony's  trial  will  have  a  bearing. 
In  the  mean  time  he  throws   himself  entirely   upon 


220 


UP    THE    RIVER. 


his  counsel.  When  asked  by  the  Justice  of  the 
Peace  at  the  preliminary  examination  what  had 
been  his  occupation  and  means  of  living,  he  replied 
'  Speculating  /' 


XIV 


July. 


<nce>j 


fyi.'}/ 


OWARD  the  close 
of  day,   I  was  just 
sitting  under  a  pi 
azza,    marking   the 
effect  of  light  and 
shade      upon      the 
mountains,  and  the 
transformations  of 
the    golden  -  tinted 
clouds,     which,     in 
the  transparent  at- 
mosphere    of      our 
clime,  almost  rival 
the    glories    of    an 
Italian      sun-set. — 
The   day  had  been 
warm  and  sultry,  producing   a  nerveless  lassitude, 
an  inattention  of  duty,  and  neglect  of  dress  ;  and 


222  UP    THE    RIVER. 

from  the  mere  exertion  to  pump  up  some  kind  of  feel 
ing,  without  coat,  without  collar,  with  a  head  drip 
ping-  wet  from  having  just  plunged  it  to  the  bottom 
of  a  bucket  of  cold  water,  desiring  to  see  no  body, 
I  was  reading  over  the  engrossing  pages  of  Lewis's 
novel,  or  rather  melo-drama,  called  '  The  Monk,'  a 
production  spoiled  by  indecency,  diablerie,  and  blue- 
fire,  and  only  fit  for  adult  people.     From  the  monk, 
as   depicted   in  the  romance,  I  kept  turning  my  eye 
perpetually  toward    a  cowled  mountain  (no   pun   is 
intended)  which  I  have  called  The  Monk  ;  and  from 
the  nun  Agnes  to  a  pinnacle  which,  in  winter- time, 
when   it   was    enwrapped   in    a   garment    of   chaste 
snows,    I  took  a  fancy  to  christen  The  Niai.     Pre- 
sently, as  the  shades  thickened,  the  bad  print  of  the 
book   became    no   longer  discernible  ;    and  looking 
up,    the   star  of  eve,  w'ith  its  soft   and   unblemished 
light,    appeared  alone  in  the  heavens.     I  heard   the 
faint  hu-m  which  marks  the  close  of  day  proceeding 
from  the  distant  barn-yards,  and  the  farmers  driving 
the    cattle   home,    and   the    whip-poor-wills   in    the 
meadows  began  their  evening-song.     If  we  have  no 
nightingales  in  our  climate,  this  bird  is  no  bad  sub- 
stitute ;   and  if  we  have  no  larks  in  the  morning,  the 
bobolink   sings   sweetly   and  perpetually  upon   the 
wing.     As    to   Bull-frog,   his  croakings  are  abated  ; 


UP    THE    RIVER.  223 

and  as  to  Katy-did,  his  lamentations  about  the 
broken  bottle  have  not  yet  begun.  The  night  was 
very  still  ;  only  now  and  then  was  heard  by  the 
lovers  of  melody  the  infinitely  fine  music  produced 
by  the  tiny  wings  of  the  mosquito  beating  the  air, 
and  which  really  seemed  to  be  a  Bellini  melody, 
blown  through  the  fragile  trumpet  of  his  proboscis. 
To  those  whose  ears  and  tempers  are  attuned  rightly, 
this  music,  pursued  from  high  to  low,  or  low  to 
high,  through  the  marvellously-ascending  or  descend- 
ing scale  of  the  gamut,  would  almost  appear  suited 
to  dilettanti  spirits,  and  as  if  produced  by  a  detach- 
ment from  Queen  Mab's  orchestra.  It  would  be  to- 
tally lost  in  the  midst  of  vulgar  noises  ;  but  its  at- 
tenuated notes  are  wafted,  in  all  their  delicate  sub- 
tleness, to  those  who  recline  in  arm-chairs,  repose 
on  couches,  and  who  are  lulling  themselves  to  re- 
pose. I  have  often  and  often  admired  them  when 
just  on  the  verge  of  sleep,  and  been  recalled  by 
them,  from  the  land  of  shadows.  How  beautiful  is 
their  '  Hum-Waltz,'  and  their  '  Teaze  Polka,'  and 
their  '  Sing-sing  Requiem  ;'  enough  to  make  you 
clap  your  hands  until  the  blood  flows  !  And  when 
I  have  seen  them  after  death,  mashed  flat  in  their 
embalment   upon  a  white-washed  wall,   I  think  of 


224  UP    THE    KIVER. 

that    sentiment    of   Kirke    White,  if  I    remember 

rightly  : 

'  Music  past  is  obsolete.' 

In  a  short  time  the  shades  of  evening  fast  prevailed  ; 
and  the  lone  star,  so  serene  in  lustre,  was  succeeded 
by  the  whole  splendid  galaxy  ;  and  I  marked  the 
course  of  the  Milky-way  ;  and  the  big,  round  moon, 
which  always  seemed  to  me  very  skull-like,  rose 
slowly,  almost  sluggishly,  over  the  mountains  ;  and 
before  I  thought  that  the  night  was  far  advanced, 
the  clock  struck  ten.  Which  do  you  like  best,  the 
long  days  or  the  long  nights  ?  I  am  equally  balanced 
in  my  own  mind  between  the  love  of  summer  and 
winter  ;  but  I  think  that  our  clime  is  the  most  happy, 
where  there  are  four  seasons  of  the  year,  and  they 
roll  round  in  just  succession.  I  can  make  no  choice, 
but  enjoy  them  all  equally,  because  they  relieve 
each  other,  and  afford  a  pleasing  variety.  There  is 
no  monotony  so  dreary  as  that  of  perpetual  sun- 
shine and  summer  ;  but  if  I  ever  feel  a  sadness,  it 
is  when  the  days  begin  to  get  long  in  March,  and 
the  delightful  early  blazing  fire-side  has  become 
cold.  If  you  live  according,  to  nature  and  to  the 
clime  in  which  you  are  born,  when  the  days  are 
long,   you  will  go  to  bed  early,    and  when  they  are 


UP     THE    RIVER.  225 

short,  you  will  sit  up  late.  But  artificial  habits  turn 
the  laws  of  nature  topsy-turvy.  I  cannot  prevail 
upon  myself  to  go  to  sleep  during  these  heavenly 
nights  ;  and  during  winter  the  charms  of  social  con- 
verse keep  one  up  unnaturally  late.  It  is  hard  to 
tell  which  to  like  best,  the  long  days  or  the  long 
nights.  But  I  was  enamoured  of  this  night  very 
much  ;  for  when  the  clock  struck  twelve,  I  was  still 
sitting  on  the  piazza  looking  at  the  stars,  enjoying 
the  hum  of  the  mosquitoes,  smoking  a  segar,  and 
observing  the  multitude  of  lightning-bugs,  who  ap- 
peared like  stars  in  a  lower  firmament,  and  as  they 
flapped  their  wings,  threatened  to  set  the  hay-cocks 
on  fire.  Last  evening,  I  observed  a  young  girl, 
dressed  in  white,  walking  on  the  edge  of  the  mea- 
dows, carrying  two  pails  of  white  maple  filled  with 
still  whiter  milk,  for  she  had  just  performed  her 
evening  task  of  milking  the  cows  in  my  neighbour's 
barn-yard;  and  as  the  lightning  bugs  flitted  around 
her,  she  seemed  to  have  on  a  splendid  ball-room  at- 
tire, spangled  with  stars. 

While  drawing  the  last  puff's  from  the  aforesaid 
cigar,  thinking  that  it  was  high  time  to  go  to  bed 
and  to  sleep,  for  the  clock  tolled  one,  (the  Yankee 
clock  in  my  kitchen,)  and  presently  the  factory-bell 
at    Matteawan,   three    miles   off",   sounded  the  same 


226  UP    THE     RIVER. 

hour  of  night  through  the  mountain-defiles,  I  observed 
an  animal  half  white,  half  black,   first   pressing   it- 
self under  the  large  gate,  then  stealing  about  along 
the   edges  of  the    fence  among  my  enclosures  very 
stealthily;  then  hopping  and  skipping  at  the  base  of 
the  hay-cocks.     I  could  not  exactly  make  out  what 
it  was.     Its  motions  w'ere  exceedingly  agile,  and  as 
the  moon's  quiet  beams  were  shining  down  upon  the 
grass,  it  looked  as  if  it  might  be  a  leopard,  a  sly  fox, 
a  fawn,   a  small  gray-hound,  a  stray  lamb,  a  rabbit, 
a   dear   little  deer — I  knew  not  what.     I  retreated 
hastily,  set  the    end  of  another  segar   on   fire,   sat 
down  and  watched  the  motions  of  this  strange  ani- 
mal.    In  the  first  place,  I  could  not  make  out  how 
large  it  was,  as  the  light  was  so  deceptive  ;   I  could 
only  detect  that  it  was  variegated  with  white    and 
black  spots.     I  knew  not  whether  it  was  a  harmless 
creature  or  a  ferocious  wild-cat  from  the  neighbour- 
ing woods  ;  but  its  motions  were  exceedingly  grace- 
ful, hopping,  and  skipping,  and  playing  in  the  moon- 
beams,   and   I   conjectured    that,    however    savage 
might  be  its  real  nature,  it  was  but  a  cub,  and  that 
there  would  be  no  real  danger  in  running  out  upon 
the  lawn  and  seizing  it  by  the  neck.     Thinks  I  to 
myself,   '  I  will  do  it.'     But  just  at  that  moment,  the 
black-and-white   spotted   animal   leaped    upon    the 


UP    THE    RIVER.  227 

Stone  fence,  and  with  the  swiftness  of  lightning  ran 
for  about  twenty  yards  along  it,  among  the  poison- 
vines  and  briers  which  grew  over  it,  and  appearing 
as  it  did  in  strong  relief,  it  seemed  to  be  of  the  size 
of  a  half-grown  fox  ;  and  I  decided  to  let  it  alone, 
and  to  remain  stationary.  For  half  an  hour  I 
w-atched  it  with  much  curiosity  in  a  state  of  sus- 
pense, not  knowing  what  to  make  of  it.  Presently, 
crawling  along  on  the  grass  to  the  foot  of  an  apple- 
tree,  it  ran  half  way  up  the  trunk,  turned  its  head 
around,  looked  down,  and  so  remained  clutching 
the  bark.  '  Can  this  be,'  thought  I,  'a  racoon  ?'  I 
had  scarcely  conceived  the  idea,  when,  going  at 
once  into  the  house,  1  opened  the  drawer  of  a  bu- 
reau, drew  out  an  old  pistol,  put  into  the  barrel  a 
pinch  of  powder  and  a  few  shot,  and  returned  to 
search  for  the  'coon.  He  was  gone.  In  vain  did 
I  look  for  him  along  the  stone  fence,  and  round  the 
house-corners,  in  the  garden  among  the  gooseberry 
bushes  and  the  currants  ;  but  going  under  the  shed, 
I  saw  something  white.  I  pulled  back  the  trigger, 
put  a  little  powder  in  the  pan,  for  1  had  not  any 
patent  pistol,  saw  something  move,  took  aim,  when 
suddenly  my  heart  quite  failed  me.  *  Dear  me  !' 
said  I  to  myself,  '  can  this  be  a  pole-cat  V  The 
thought   seemed   feasible,   for  several  times  I  had 


228  ^P    THE    RIVER. 

been  in  most  dangerous  propinquity  to  these  un 
pleasant  animals.  I  knew  that  ihe  prevalent  co- 
lours which  they  hung  out  were  hlack  and  white — 
and,  moreover,  that  they  much  abounded  in  these 
regions.  Tt  was  enough.  I  retreated  in  excellent 
order,  uncocked  the  pistol,  and  again  sat  down  on 
the  piazza,  watching  the  moon  as  she  waded 
through  the  sombre  clouds,  brushing  off  an  occa- 
sional mosquito,  and  thinking  of  the  just-published 
poems  of  Alexander  Smith.  Was  Alexander  a  real 
poet  ?  From  reading  many  extracts  of  his  verses  I 
inclined  to  favor  the  opinion  that  he  was,  although 
he  has  not  yet  written  a  perfect  poem.  But  he  is  a 
very  young  man,  and  if  he  does  not  write  one,  he 
will  very  much  disappoint  the  richness  of  his  early 
promise.  The  mere  fact  that  his  name  is  Smith 
affords  no  reason  why  he  should  not  be  a  distin- 
guished author,  for  several  persons  with  that  cogno- 
men have  become  renowned  in  the  ranks  of  litera- 
ture. The  works  of  Sidney  Smith  are  well  known, 
spiced  as  they  are  with  wit,  although  he  makes  no 
pretension  to  poetry,  and  perhaps  one  of  the  most 
noted  poems  of  the  language  on  the  pleasant  theme 
of  May-Day 

But  I  must  return  to  the  animal. 

It  again  appeared  in  sight,  emerging  from  some 


UP    THE    RIVER.  229 

loop-hole  in  the  fence  or  the  hedge,  coming  out 
from  the  high  grass  or  the  concealment  of  the  stone 
wall  upon  the  open  lawn,  and  from  hillock  to  hil- 
lock lightly  leaping  with  the  fleeting  movement  of  a 
shadow.  It  teased  me  so  by  the  distance  at  which 
it  kept  from  the  door  in  the  performance  of  its  fan- 
ciful gyrations,  that  I  resolved  that  it  would  be  safe 
to  take  a  pistol-shot  or  two  at  it  from  a  distance, 
and  with  the  thought  again  seized  the  pistol,  re- 
primed,  took  aim,  when  off  went  the  little  skulker 
into  a  bush.  When  it  appeared  again,  my  intention 
was  changed,  for  it  came  jumping  in  a  direct  line  to 
the  place  where  I  sat,  waving  its  tail,  which  was 
barred  with  chocolate-coloured  rings,  rubbing  its 
sides  against  the  boards,  putting  out  its  front  paws, 
and  drawing  them  back  again  with  fantastic  play- 
fulness ;  and  then  I  saw  that  it  was  not  a  wild-cat 
or  a  pole-cat,  but  a  young  kitten.  It  slipped  by  me, 
and,  faintly  mewing,  ran  into  the  house,  and  al- 
though several  times  put  out,  returned  again,  as  if 
desiring  to  seek  a  home.  Since  the  loss  of  my  ca- 
nary, I  have  a  sworn  antipathy  to  cats.  Though 
interesting  at  the  period  of  mewing  kittenhood,  when 
fully  grown  they  are  skulking  and  unafFectionate— • 
domesticated,  yet  not  domestic  ;  in  old  age  mO" 
rose,    vagabond,  and  cruel.     The   other  day  I  met 


230  UP    THE    II I  V  E  R 

my  friend  Lemon  in  the  city,  and  the  first  question 
which  he  asked  me  was  about  the  canary  which  he 
had  given  me.  When  he  learned  the  fate  thereof, 
he  was  displeased,  saying  that  it  was  a  gift  ;  that 
there  was  no  excuse  ;  that  I  ought  to  have  taken 
better  care  of  it  ;  and  that  it  was  one  of  the  most 
promising  birds  in  the  United  States. 

July  4. — I  passed  the  fourth  of  July  again  this 
year  in  the  meekest  seclusion,  and  except  the  boom- 
ing of  the  distant  guns,  when  the  glorious  day  was 
ushered  in,  heard  no  sound  but  the  whispering 
breeze  among  the  tree-branches,  and  suffered  no  in- 
convenience from  the  smell  of  gunpowder.  I  detest 
the  use  of  Chinese  crackers,  and  for  one,  would 
neither  instruct  nor  indulge  children  in  celebrating 
the  anniversary  by  an  unmeaning  racket.  The  un- 
ceasing waste  of  ammunition  from  sun-rise  to  sun- 
set is  simply  annoying  to  all  people  who  have  come 
to  years  of  discretion,  and  is  unworthy  of  young 
American  citizens.  To  say  nothing  of  blown-off 
thumbs  and  fingers,  and  of  eradicated  eye-balls,  if 
the  Republic  should  endure  for  a  few  hundred  years 
— and  who  can  doubt  that  it  will  ? — ^  esto  jyerjjetua  ' 
— more  waste  of  life  will  ensue  from  fourth-of-July 
celebrations  than  was  incurred  in  the  whole  course 


UP    THE     IIIVER.  231 

of  the  Revolution.  However  rash  it  may  be  to  run 
counter  to  popular  custom  or  prejudice,  the  indis 
criminate  firing  of  guns,  crackers,  pistols,  muskets, 
and  arquebuses,  in  all  streets,  places,  lanes  and 
alleys,  in  the  ears  of  pedestrians,  and  before  the 
houses  of  sick  people,  is  opposed  to  common  sense, 
good  feeling,  and  good  breeding.  It  iS  also  in  di- 
rect violation  of  municipal  laws  and  regulatjphs, 
which  are  duly  posted  up  in  all  towns  and  cities, 
and  which  ought  to  be  enforced,  if  officers  have  a 
sense  of  their  own  dignity.  Do  they  affix  the  laws 
to  the  pillars,  that  the  populace  may  sneer  at  those 
who  made  them,  and  laugh  in  their  sleeve  at 
those  who  never  intend  to  enforce  them?  Gun- 
powder will  lose  all  respect  if  it  is  in  the  hands  of 
every  body.  It  ought  to  be  confined  strictly  in 
magazines,  and  let  out  by  safety-valves  through  the 
muskets  of  true  sportsmen,  or  of  authorized  artille- 
ry-men, only  as  need  may  require,  and  according  to 
strict  license.  This  is  using  gunpowder  as  not 
abusing  it.  Far  be  it  from  me  to  desire  any  cold 
and  heartless  recognition  of  this  inspiriting  anniver 
sary  ;  to  have  it  ushered  m  or  to  let  it  go  out  in 
such  a  way  as  would  suit  tb.e  ideas  of  a  few  formal 
philosophers  ;  to  devote  it  only  to  prayers  and 
preaching,  to  the  sleepiness  of  an  England  Sunday 


232  UP    THE    RIVER. 

or  to  the  eating  of  a  New  England  thanksgiving. 
Let  it  be  announced  regularly  with  the  discharge  of 
cannon,  with  the  pomp  of  war,  and  with  the  move- 
ment of  the  '  peoples  ;'  let  the  folds  of  the  star- 
spangled  banner  be  every  where  let  loose  over  the 
masses  who  are  collected  to  celebrate  it  ;  and  while 
all  men  are  4reed  from  labour,  let  the  young  and  the 
old  jrejoice  together  until  the  set  of  sun,  in  a  uni- 
versal holiday. 


July  10. 

My  old  Shanghai  rooster  is  dead.  From  the  time 
he  was  brought  to  my  house  in  a  basket,  about  a 
year  ago,  until  now,  his  career  has  been  varied,  but 
the  latter  part  of  it  miserable  indeed.  He  has  not 
ventured  upon  a  hearty  crow  for  the  last  six  months. 
All  things  went  smoothly  with  him  at  first,  and  there 
was  a  degree  of  eclat  attaching  to  his  family.  The 
neighbours  came  to  see  him,  and  remarked  that  he 
was  an  uncommonly  large  fowl ;  but  he  was  perhaps 
magnified  in  their  eyes  because  he  was  di  foreigner ; 
and  they  turned  upon  their  heel  with  a  sovereign 
contempt  of  the  common  barn-yard  fowl.  He  had 
the  enclosures  all  to  himself,  and,  standing  erect  on 
the  hillock,  out  crowed  the  neis^hbourin"-  roosters. 


UP    THE     RIVER  233 

When  the  hen  began  to  lay,  every  body  wished 
to  get  eggs  of  me.  My  friends  asked  it  as  a  par- 
ticular favour  that  I  would  grant  them  a  few,  when 
I  had  them  to  spare  ;  and  the  butcher  and  baker 
stopped  at  the  gate  to  inquire  if  I  would  not  sell 
them  a  few  Shanghai  eggs.  Thus  the  stock  rose 
in  the  market,  and  feathers  were  buoyant.  When 
the  Cochin-China  cock  arrived,  he  was  at  least  one- 
third  larger,  and  so  much  superior  to  the  other  in 
all  points,  and  had  such  a  lordly  strut  and  royal 
comb,  as  completely  to  cast  him  in  the  shade.  They 
at  once  fought  valiantly  for  the  mastery,  and  the 
contest  was  continued  in  various  skirmishes  and 
pitched  battles  for  several  days.  At  last,  when 
Shanghai  became  convinced  that  he  was  no  match, 
his  eyes  wavered  and  refused  to  meet  the  adversary, 
and  on  every  occasion  he  pusillanimously  fled.  He 
eould  not  be  secure  even  of  a  bit  of  bread;  he  was 
bullied  at  every  turn  ;  and  he  lost  the  haughty  bear- 
ing which  he  once  had  when  he  was  cock  of  the 
walk.  What  appeared  to  mortify  him  more,  was, 
that  the  hen  deserted  him,  and  preferred  the  Cochin 
guest,  so  that  he  strayed  solitary  on  the  corners  of 
the  field,  and  picked  up  what  living  he  could.  He 
also  roosted  alone.     Every  now  and  then,  when  he 


234  UP    THE    RIVER. 

was  minding  his  own  business,  and  no  attack  was 
suspected,  I  noticed  that  his  adversary  would  rush 
on  him  from  a  distance,  and  give  him  a  sound  drub- 
binsr.  On  these  occasions,  he  would  run  under  the 
steps  or  the  bushes  :  and  at  last  he  got  to  be  so 
timid  that  he  would  fly  away  and  poke  his  head  in 
a  corner  at  the  least  alarm.  As  he  sneaked  about 
under  the  fences,  or  stood  upon  one  leg  with  his 
head  crouched  between  his  thighs,  and  his  eyes  half 
closed,  and  his  tail,  already  sparse  enough,  soaked 
in  the  rain,  he  presented  a  melancholy  ensample  of 
the  loss  of  self-respect.  To  get  him  out  of  his  pain- 
ful position,  I  offered  to  give  him  away,  in  hopes 
that  when  he  had  the  field  to  himself,  his  spirits 
would  revive,  and  that  he  would  act  worthily  of  his 
race.  But  the  proper  occasion  not  having  arrived 
to  carry  him  ofT,  he  remained  in  disgrace,  and  walked 
moodily  apart,  not  venturing  to  salute  the  rising  sun. 
Alas  !  that  the  chicken-stealer  had  not  been  success- 
ful in  his  attempt,  or  that  he  had  not  been  metamor- 
phosed, before  it  was  too  late,  into  a  delectable  fri- 
cassee !  For  a  month  past,  I  have  noticed  that  he 
has  waxed  uncommonly  lean,  and  I  have  taken  care 
that  he  should  not  be  bullied  out  of  his  corn  and  In- 
dian meal.  He  fed  readily  out  of  my  hand,  and  ap- 
peared to   relish  the  attention  well.     But  his  lean- 


UP    THE    mVER.  235 

ness  increased,  and  I  began  to  perceive  that  he  was 
losing  his  feathers  faster  than  his  flesh.  I  at  first 
thought  that  the  poor  bird  was  shedding  them  ;  that 
he  was  inouJting,  and,  in  consequence,  in  feeble 
health,  until  I  caught  the  Cochin-China  cock  in  the 
cruel  trick  of  picking  out  a  feather,  from  time  to 
time.  His  plumage  was  thus  decimated,  and  at  last 
his  tail  totally  gone,  and  he  began  to  look  as  if  he 
had  been  in  the  hands  of  the  cook,  and  was  nearly 
dressed.  Dressed!  according  to  the  vocabulary  of 
the  kitchen.  Perceiving  that  removal  was  his  only 
chance,  I  sat  down  and  indited  the  following  note 
to  a  friend  : 

"  I  offered  you   my  Shanghai   cock.     When  you 
come  this  way  again,  bring    a    basket    in    your  car 
riage,  and  a  bit  of  canvas,      I  don't  want  him,  as  the 
other  cock  is  fast  killing  him,  and  he  is    of  no  use. 
He  is  losing  all  his  feathers.  Yours,  &c." 

I  had  scarcely  penned  the  above,  when  a  circum- 
stance occurred,  which,  for  aught  I  know,  was 
fatal  to  my  Shanghai.  I  had  noticed  that,  at  the 
height  of  supremacy,  he  was  a  truculent  old  fellow, 
and  ate  up  his  own  offspring  ;  and  that  Eng,  the 
hen,  although  good  at  sitting,  so  that  she  would  sit, 
and  sit,  and  would  for  ever  sit,  was  not  a  good  mo- 


236  UP    THE    RIVER. 

iher  in  rearing  her  brood,  whereas  the  Cochin 
China  hen  is  an  unmatched  mother.  There  is  a 
nest  of  wrens  in  the  apple-tree  at  the  kitchen  door; 
and  when  the  young  were  hatched,  I  noticed  them 
from  time  to  time  with  their  heads  poking  out,  until 
the  straw-house  became  too  small  for  them.  They 
were  ready  to  be  fledged,  and  fell  out  into  the  deep 
grass.  At  this  moment,  Shanghai,  being  alone, 
snapped  them  up  and  killed  them  all.  I  saw  one 
of  them  danjrlino;-  from  his  beak  stone-dead,  while 
he  strutted  about,  appearing  to  have  regained  his 
lost  estate.  At  this  moment,  in  a  fit  of  indignation 
I  pursued  him,  and  snatching  him  from  the  lilac- 
bush,  at  the  roots  of  which  he  had  poked  his  head, 
dragged  him  forcibly  out,  and  threw  him  into  the 
air.  He  came  down  on  his  legs,  and  ran  under  the 
shed.  This  last  insult  was  too  much  for  him.  In 
the  morning  he  was  found  upon  the  coal-heap,  dead. 
Well,  he  is  gone  !  he  is  gone  !  and  I  am  sorry  for 
it,  because  he  was  a  gift,  and  all  gifts  from  kind- 
hearted  people  ought  to  be  duly  prized.  But  I  am 
happy  to  inform  the  donor  that  I  have  a  brood  of 
fourteen  Cochin-China  chickens,  now  out  of  harm's 
way,  and  one-third  grown.  Palmer,  my  neighbour, 
the  other  day  said  to  me :  '  Those  are  superior 
chickens  of  yours  ;   I  assure  you  that  I  do  like  them. 


UP    THE    RIVER.  237 

wery  much  indeed.'  In  a  retired  country-place, 
where  there  is  a  lack  of  incident,  and  excitement  is 
rare,  there  is  an  eminent  source  of  pleasure  in  the 
rearing"  of  fowls.  You  are  gratified  with  the  antics 
of  your  dog,  but  nine  puppies  out  of  ten  are  of  no 
value.  You  respect  your  horse,  and  have  him  com- 
fortably stabled,  but  for  the  most  part  he  is  only  a 
patient  drudge.  You  may  even  look  down  into  your 
pig-pen  w4th  a  degree  of  satisfaction. 

But  the  hen  and  chickens,  by  their  nature,  habits, 
and  instincts,  are  an  unfailing  source  of  instruction 
and  delight.  There  is  something  beautiful  in  their 
domesticity  and  close  attachment  to  home,  always 
feeding  about  your  doors,  crowding  about  you  as 
you  go  forth,  running  and  flying  toward  you  to  re- 
ceive the  scattered  grains.  The  sounds  which 
they  make  belong  to  the  most  cheering  associations 
of  the  homestead:  the  motherly  clucking,  that  fre- 
quent reiterated  cittarcut !  and  the  healthy,  whole- 
souled  crowing  of  the  chanticleer.  At  night,  when 
the  stillness  becomes  insupportable  to  the  waker, 
he  celebrates  the  watches,  and  re-assures  you  with 
his  voice.  Starting  at  those  unaccountable  noises 
which  are  heard  at  night,  there  is  a  familiarity  in 
the  cock-crowing  which  puts  you  in  a  fearless 
mood,   and  seems  to  say  :   '  All's    well.'     The   fresh 


238  ^'P    THE    RIVER. 

egg  daily  brought  in  and  deposited  in  a  basket,  the 
incubation,  the  hatching,  the  matronly  conduct  of 
the  hen,  walking  with  careful  steps  among  the 
brood,  now  exchanging  her  tenderness  for  ferocity 
at  the  approach  of  a  mousing  cat,  or  the  shadow 
of  a  swooping  hawk,  or,  when  the  storm  lowers, 
gathering  her  chickens  under  her  wings  ;  the  gra- 
dual relinquishing  of  her  charge,  as  they  increase  to 
the  plumpness  of  a  full-grown  quail  or  a  young  par- 
tridge, when  the  young  roosters,  in  the  spirit  of 
imitation,  venture  upon  their  first  ragged  crow, 
(mixed  bass  and  treble,  like  the  changing  voice  of 
a  hobbledehoy  ;)  the  occasional  cock-fight  and  sham 
battle  ;  the  feelings  which  you  experience  when  you 
drag  down  a  brace  of  young  pullets  for  your  dinner, 
and  perhaps  see  their  heads  cut  off  at  the  wood-pile, 
while  they  flop  and  flounce  about  on  their  sides 
among  the  chips — these  things  arrest  your  attention 
from  day  to  day,  and  mitigate  seclusion.  Although 
it  is  amusing  to  see  ducks  waddling  down  to  the 
pond  at  sun-rise  in  Indian  file,  and  at  the  cry  of 
their  owner  returning  to  be  locked  up  at  night-fall 
in  the  same  order,  gluttonizing  on  little  fish  till  the 
fins  and  tails  stick  out  of  their  mouths,  they  have 
not  half  the  interest  of  hens  and  chickens.  As  in- 
habitants of  te7-ra  f/yna,  they  are  not  worth  notice  ; 


UP    THE    RIVER.  239 

in  the  water  they  are  inanimate,  and  have  neither 
the  agility  of  fishes  nor  the  grace  of  wild  fowl.  It 
is  a  beautiful  sight  to  see  a  large  brood  of  half- 
grown,  full-blooded  chickens,  sitting  down  as  close 
together  as  they  can  be  on  the  grass,  occupying  a 
space  no  larger  than  could  be  covered  by  the  broad 
brim  of  a  Panama  hat,  or  could  be  commanded  by 
the  sweeping  charge  of  a  double-barrel.  At  night 
they  huddle  together  in  the  same  manner  in  an 
angle  of  the  shed  ;  but  when  a  little  older,  seek  the 
perch,  there  to  remain  until  the  break  of  day,  un- 
less pulled  down  by  the  abandoned  chicken-stealer. 
A  cock  is  the  proudest  and  most  majestic  bird 
which  was  ever  feathered.  Let  the  gay  flamingo 
flap  his  wings,  and  the  peacock  flirt  his  gaudy  fan, 
and  all  the  songless  flock  which  make  the  tropic 
groves  so  brilliant.  The  Bird  of  Paradise  may  be 
esteemed  a  marvel,  and  a  paragon  of  the  most 
ecstatic  beauty,  with  all  its  train  of  soft  and  melting 
heavenly  colours,  the  blending  of  that  holy  Hand 
which,  whether  shown  on  the  aerial  bow  or  in  the 
sun-set  skies,  or  on  the  cheeks  of  fruits,  or  in  the 
bloom  of  flowers,  is  far  beyond  all  imitative  pencil; 
Die  of  those  forms  of  love  divine  which  never  yet 
have  ceased  to  grace  our  natural  Eden.  Even  as  a 
dove  just  parted  from  the  leash,  the  carrier  of  some 


240  UP    THE    RIVER. 

hopeful  message,  it  seems  to  have  been  flung   down 
already  fashioned  from  the  very  groves  which  hang 
over  the  flashing  waves  that  roll  hard   by  the  Gol- 
den City.     But  for  these  birds  of  gorgeous  plumage 
it   may  be  said  that  they  live    too    near    the    sun. 
They  are  where  the  tendency  of   all  dust  is  to  take 
on   also  the   more    disjfustino:  forms  of   life  :  where 
the    lizard   lurks   among  the  choicest  perfume,  and 
where  the  basilisk  lies  along  the  branch.      They  are 
symbols  of  a  perfection  of  beauty  which  is  not  of 
earth.     Now  the  cock  is  the  representative  of   the 
erect,  inherent  dignity  of  nature.      His  race  is  found 
every  where.     He  loses  not  caste  among  the  tropic- 
birds.     He  walks  along  the  equatorial  belt  ;   he  has 
his    coop  in  Terra  del  Fuego  as  well  as  in   the   icy 
north.     He  flies  wild  through  the  primitive  forests, 
over  the  great    moors   and  prairies  of  the  western 
continent.     He   peoples   all    the  islands  of  the   sea, 
from  New-Holland  to  Pitcairn's  Island,  occupied  by 
the  descendants  of  the  mutineers  of  the  '  Bounty  ;' 
he   is  in  Europe  and  Asia,  and  Africa,  and  perhaps 
in   the    suburbs  of  Jerusalem  at  this  very  day  may 
be  found  the  lineage  of  the  cock  which  crowed   the 
third   lime   before   '  Peter  went  out   and    wept  bit- 
terly.' 

I  will  mention  another  superior  advantage  which 


UP    THE    RIVER.  241 

is  possessed  by  these  home-bred  birds.  Things 
which  are  exceeding-  bright  soon  weary,  and  pall 
upon  the  sense  of  sight  ;  and  when  the  eye  becomes 
dissipated  among  gorgeous  objects,  it  soon  rests  upon 
vacancy,  having  reached  the  limit  of  enjoyment  in 
the  present  sphere.  The  fiery  plumes  leave  no  im- 
pression on  the  seared  brains  of  those  who  live  in 
the  tropics,  any  more  than  they  do  a  track  in  the 
cloven  air.  The  nature  of  these  birds  must  be  ex- 
plored by  the  far-searching  naturalist,  who  with  an 
enthusiasm  of  his  pure  studies  which  blends  itself 
into  the  very  religion  of  his  heart,  like  Wilson,  and 
Bartram,  and  Audubon,  is  willing  to  pursue  them 
through  every  danger,  and  wing  them  in  their  timorous 
retreats.  Through  the  labours  of  such  men  we  learn 
at  second  hand  the  endless  variety  of  the  creation, 
and  from  the  wonderful  adaptation  of  all  things  to 
their  end,  enrich  the  argument  for  the  existence  of 
a  glorious  and  merciful  God.  But  in  the  hen  and 
chickens  we  have  every  where  before  us  a  perpetual 
lesson  of  affection,  high  instinct,  and  domestic  vir- 
tues, of  which  the  mind  never  tires.  Pride  and  na- 
tive dignity  attend  the  foot-steps  of  the  male,  and 
in  his  mate  we  see  the  inherent  strength  of  true 
love,  assuming  the  fierceness  of  a  vulture  when  it 
stands  in  need  of  better  protection  than  the  shadow 
11 


242  UP    THE    RIVER. 

of  its  wings.  The  pugnacious  disposition  of  the 
cock  shows  that  the  government  of  the  flock  is  pa- 
triarchal, and  that  there  cannot  rightfully  be  but  one 
lord  within  the  same  enclosures.  There  can  be  no 
mixed  government  to  be  consistent  with  the  dignity 
of  the  bird.  Hence,  my  Shanghai,  after  a  fair  contest, 
was  compelled  to  knock  under,  and  finally  fell  off 
the  perch  from  sheer  mortification  and  neglect,  hav- 
ing lost  nearly  all  his  feathers.  Had  he  shown 
more  spirit,  although  the  smaller  bird,  he  might  have 
kept  possession  of  the  ground  which  was  his  by 
legal  tenure.  His  unhappy  fate  reminds  me  of  a 
tilting-match  which  actually  occurred  between  a 
cock  and  a  peacock,  which  goes  to  show  the  strength 
of  weakness  when  enlisted  in  a  right  cause,  and 
what  will  sometimes  ensue  from  picking  your  neigh- 
bours gradually  to  pieces  :  and  as  the  narrative  in- 
volves so  good  a  moral,  I  shall  endeavour  to  put  it 
into  the  form  of  a  fable,  without  intending  to  en- 
croach upon  the  department  of  that  unique  and  ex- 
ceedingly original  delineator  and  learned  Professor, 
Gilbert  Sphinx.     Here  it  is  : 

IN  an  extensive  barn-yard,  where  the   harvests  of 
a  rich  farmer  were  collected,  and  the  scattering  of 
corn,  hay,  oats,  and  Timothy  seed,  was  exceedingly 


UP    THE    RIVER.  243 

profuse,  there  existed  the  most  flourishing  establish- 
ment of  fowls  in  that  whole  neighbourhood.  In  the 
midst  of  this  harem  of  hens,  ruled  an  extremely 
handsome  and  vain-glorious  chanticleer.  He  would 
have  been  singled  out  for  his  gay  plumes,  blood-red 
comb,  expanding  chest,  swelling  throat,  uplifted 
head,  eminent  aspect.  In  case  of  any  intrusion 
upon  his  premises,  the  result  was  a  bloody  fight, 
which  usually  left  the  adversary  on  his  back  stone- 
dead. 

Early  one  morning  before  the  cock-crowing,  the 
whole  family  in  the  barn  yard  were  awakened  by  a 
shrill,  wild,  unearthly  scream.  Sir  Chanticleer 
jumped  from  his  perch,  and  as  the  day  just  began 
to  dawn,  he  discovered  an  unusual  visitor,  a  pea- 
cock, who  had  strayed  from  a  great  distance. 

'  What  do  you  want  here  ?'  said  Chanty,  bristling 
up. 

'  To  ask  about  your  Majesty's  health,'  replied  the 
other,  causing  his  tail  to  droop,  and  trembling  all 
over,  for  he  was  a  great  coward  ;  '  only  to  ask  about 
your  Majesty's  health,  and  permission  to  spend  a 
day  or  two  in  youi  dominion,  until  I  am  rested  from 
the  fatigues  of  my  journey.' 

*  Certainly,'  said  Cockspur,  appeased  by  his 
guest's  submissive  air.     '  What  is  your  name  ?' 


244  UP    THE    RIVER. 

'They  call  me  Splendid  Peacock,'  replied  he. 

'Very  well,  Splendid,  I  am  glad  to  see  you.  It 
is  not  very  often  that  one  of  your  set  does  us  the 
honour  to  call.  It  is  time  for  breakfast.  Here  are 
oats,  there  is  corn.  Help  yourself :  be  entirely  at 
home.' 

*  I  will,'  said  Splendid,  recovering  his  assurance, 
and  scratching  up  a  few  grains. 

During  the  whole  of  the  first  day,  nothing  oc- 
curred to  mar  the  pleasure  of  the  visit,  although 
Peacock  was  so  embarrassed  and  bashful  that  he 
did  not  do  himself  justice.  He  lurked  about  in  cor- 
ners, with  his  head  down  and  his  plumage  folded  up, 
and  his  voice  was  not  even  heard.  His  timidity 
showed  itself  in  all  his  movements.  On  the  second 
day,  not  having  worn  out  his  welcome,  and  his  re- 
ception being  good,  he  walked  with  much  more  free- 
dom ;  and  about  noon,  when  the  sun  was  shining  in 
its  utmost  splendour,  ascending  a  hillock  which  was 
the  very  throne  of  Chanticleer,  he  opened  all  his 
gorgeous  plumage  to  the  light.  The  sensation  was 
prodigious;  a  crowd  gathered  around  him,  and  a 
chuckle  of  admiration  went  through  the  whole  yard. 
From  that  moment  Sir  Chanty  was  filled  with 
deadly  animosity,  and  could  hardly  refrain  from 
picking  his  eyes  out  on  the   spot.     He,   however, 


UP    THE    RIVER.  245 

smothered  his  rage  for  the  present,  but  he  determined 
to  be  the  death  of  him.  He  therefore  souffht  a  cause 
of  quarrel,  and  was  content  to  remark,  when  he  heard 
his  guest  praised,  that  he  had  a  scrawny  neck,  ugly- 
feet,  and  a  miserable,  discordant  voice.  On  the 
third  day,  being  unable  any  longer  to  hold  his  spite, 
he  came  slyly  up  to  Peacock  and  plucked  out  one 
of  the  handsomest  feathers  in  his  tail.  Of  this  the 
other  took  no  notice,  as  he  had  still  ample  plumes. 
Every  day,  however.  Chanticleer  continued  this 
process  of  picking  till  there  was  not  another  feather 
left  in  the  poor  bird's  tail,  and  he  was  an  object  of 
ridicule  to  the  whole  harem.  Chanty,  however 
perceived  that  his  work  was  not  done  while  his  ad- 
versary had  still  some  very  handsome  feathers  on 
the  top  of  his  head  ;  he  therefore  approached  with 
the  intention  of  plucking  them  out  by  the  roots. 
When  Splendid  Peacock  found  that  he  was  going 
lose  his  top-knot  also,  his  cowardice  gave  place  to 
an  ungovernable  rage,  and  he  flew  at  his  opponent 
in  so  unexpected  a  manner,  and  without  observing 
any  of  the  rules  of  fighting,  that  the  latter  was  on 
his  back  before  he  knew  it.  Peacock  then,  encour- 
aged by  success,  and  growing  all  the  time  more  vin- 
dictive, followed  up  the  attack  until  he  had  driven 
Cockspur   entirely   out    of  the   enclosure,  who  was 


246  UP    THE     RIVER. 

SO  mortified  and  chagrined  that  he  never  came  back, 
but  left  his  guest  in  undisputed  possession. 

While  on  the  subject,  it  may  not  be  amiss  to  say 
something  about  the  rearing  of  fowls  mostly  for  the 
banefit  of  your  ignoramus  who  is  smitten  with  a 
sudden  love  of  the  country,  and  purchases  a  box 
and  few  acres,  and  dreams  of  his  exploits  in  hus- 
bandry and  the  happiness  which  he  has  in  store. 
From  the  extensive  henneries  and  large  spaces 
which  you  see  enclosed  with  light  picket-fences, 
and  the  extravagant  prices  which  are  given  now-a- 
days  for  certain  breeds  of  fowls,  one  would  suppose 
that  they  laid  golden  eggs,  like  the  goose  in  ^Esop's 
fable,  and  would  make  their  owners  rich.  Such  in 
fact,  is  the  futile  hope  which  is  cherished.  Now 
there  is  nothing  which  is  more  certain  to  remunerate 
you  than  the  few  chickens  for  which  there  is  room 
upon  your  place,  and  which  may  pick  up  their  own 
living  from  the  chaff,  or  be  supplied  from  the  pro- 
vender which  you  have.  The  fresh  eggs  alone  will 
recompense  your  care,  and  your  expense  will  be  no- 
thing. The  cock  will  roam  abroad  at  will,  and  the 
hens  will  deposit  their  eggs  where  they  please,  in 
the  loft  or  in  the  garden.  %ut  when  it  comes  to 
making  artificial  nests,  and  providing  the  birds  with 


UP    THE    RIVER.  247 

bits  of  lime  instead  of  permitting  them  to  seek  out 
the  broken  clam-shells,  and  having  their  roosts  made 
by  a  carpenter,  instead  of  letting  them  find  their  own 
roosts  on  a  beam  or  on  a  tree  ;  when  you  attempt 
to  raise  them  by  the  fifties  or  by  the  thousands,  in 
nine  cases  out  of  ten  you  will  find  yourself  out  of 
pocket.  These  thick  populations  do  not  thrive ; 
and  as  they  are  domestic  in  their  habits,  they  are 
fond  of  a  quiet  home,  and  do  not,  like  the  turkeys, 
who  are  wild  in  nature,  love  to  go  in  large  flocks. 
If  you  live  in  the  country,  you  need  never  be  with- 
out a  pair  of  broiled  chickens  on  your  table  if  you 
have  a  friend  to  dine  with  you,  but  you  will  be  wo- 
fully  disappointed  if  you  expect  to  grow  rich  out  of 
your  fowls.  I  am  very  much  struck  with  the  con- 
stant rejection  by  the  country-farmers  of  all  fan- 
ciful schemes,  and  their  perseverance  in  the  old  ways 
of  husbandry  and  the  succession  of  crops.  No  mat- 
ter how  tempting  may  be  the  prospect,  their  atten- 
tion is  never  distracted  for  a  single  season  from  the 
common  routine,  and  their  ultimate  success  proves 
iheir  judgment  to  have  been  correct.  You  will 
scarcely  find  a  farmer  supporting  an  inordinate 
family  of  hens,  or  providing  for  them  any  better 
shelter  than  his  barn-yard  or  his  sheds.  It  is  the 
amateur-husbandman,  the  philosopher,  the  poet,  the 


248  UPTHERIVER. 

man  of  letters,  who  ventures  on  these  experiments. 
The  person  who  made  me  a  present  of  my  Shanghai 
and  Cochin-China  fowls  has  a  large  number  of  them 
in  his  enclosures,  the  descendants  of  those  which  he 
has  imported  directly  from  far  countries  ;  but  his 
object  is  not  to  make  money  out  of  them,  and  he 
dispenses  them  with  a  free  will  among  his  friends, 
in  order  that  the  stock  may  be  improved. 

While  speaking  of  high-breeds,  it  may  be  well  to 
mention  that  I  lately  met  a  man  who  was  going  all 
over  the  country  trying  to  procure  a  pair  of  the 
original,  common,  barn-yard  fowl,  and  he  complained 
that  they  were  difficult  to  be  found,  the  race  is  so 
mixed.  The  foreigners  may  have  their  peculiar 
points,  it  is  true.  Their  flesh  may  be  more  tender, 
but  they  do  not  stand  the  winters  as  well.  If  they 
lay  eggs  profusely,  they  do  not  always  make  good 
mothers.  If  their  reputation  is  great,  they  are  more 
likely  to  be  taken  from  the  perch  by  the  abandoned 
chicken-stealer.  This,  however,  is  along  talk  upon 
a  subject  on  which  I  have  conversed  before  ;  but  1 
must  inform  you  before  concluding  that  I  buried  my 
old  Shanghai  at  the  roots  of  a  Diana  grape-vine,  in 
hopes  that  the  effect  would  be  seen  on  the  future 
grapes,  and  on  the  same  night  had  a  singular  dream, 
in  which  was  blended  a  remembrance  of  juvenile, 


1 


UP    THE    RIVER-  249 

romantic  story,  and  on  a  larger  scale  the  obsequies 
of  the  late  lamented  Cock-robin.  For  I  imagined 
that  I  saw  again  the  grave  dug,  and  the  pall  borne, 
and  the  mourners  walking,  and  the  bell  pulled,  while 
overhead,  upon  a  willow-branch  which  drooped  upon 
the  place  of  sepulture,  I  heard  the  voice  of  the  same 
ghostly  raven  which  tormented  the  life  of  Vander- 

DONK. 


July  20. — I  am  not  very  fond  of  fishing,  lacking  the 
essential  patience  of  a  true  fisherman.  I  never  re- 
member to  have  caught  many  fish,  or  to  have  been 
on  many  excursions  where  a  great  many  were  taken. 
To  sit  all  day  on  a  rock,  or  to  be  continually  bait- 
ing a  hook  for  the  benefit  of  small  nibblers,  to  get 
your  line  out  of  a  snarl  and  untie  knots,  is  not  to 
me  an  amusing  occupation.  Several  times  in  the 
season,  however,  it  is  pleasant  to  go  out  for  this  os- 
tensible purpose  ;  and  though  you  take  nothing,  you 
come  home  with  a  sharp  appetite,  and  sleep  the  bet- 
ter at  night.  The  books  on  angling  are  very  pleas- 
ant reading,  especially  the  '  Complete  Angler,'  and 
'  Salmonia,'  and  one  called  '  Spring-Tide,  or  The 
Angler  and  his  Friends,'  by  John  Yonge  Akerman  ; 


250  UP    THE    RIVER 

a  publication  whose  dialogue  is  intended  to  illustrate 
and  defend  from  the  charge  of  utter  vulgarity,  the 
language  of  the  rustic  population  of  the  southern 
and  western  parts  of  England.  But  the  trout  are 
becoming  more  and  more  scarce  every  year,  and  even 
the  mountain-streams  will  soon  need  to  be  replenish- 
ed with  this  choice  fish,  while  it  requires  more  skill 
and  patience  to  decoy  the  large  ones  at  the  bottom 
of  their  cold  and  crystal  pools.  To  land  a  good  big 
trout,  whose  nose  you  have  been  tickling  for  a  long 
time,  as  he  remains  almost  motionless,  slightly  os- 
cillating as  if  on  a  pivot,  and  tremulously  pointing, 
like  a  magnetic  needle,  to  some  dark  hole  beneath 
the  shelving  rock,  excites  a  feeling  of  triumph  as 
you  place  him  in  the  bottom  of  your  basket.  Per- 
haps, however,  you  will  have  to  wait  all  day  before 
you  get  another  bite. 

I  like  to  go  a-crahhing,  an  occupation  w^hich  has 
never,  according  to  my  knowledge,  been  dignified  by 
description,  although  these  shell-fish  are  in  much 
request.  To  pick  them  to  pieces,  and  nicely  to  ex- 
tract the  meat  from  the  several  compartments,  is  in 
itself  an  art,  and  enhances  the  pleasure  of  eating 
and  now  and  then,  in  the  fall-of  the  year,  if  you  are 
fond  of  suppers,  it  is  agreeable  to  sit  down  before  a 
large  plate  of  boiled  or  roasted  crabs,  with  your 


\ 

I 


UP    THE    RIVER.  251 

crash-towel  at  your  side,  and  draw  out  the  white 
moisels  from  the  sockets,  or  scoop  out  from  its  re 
cesses  the  richer  fat.  But  the  soft-crab  is  especially- 
desiderated  by  epicures;  for  no  part  is  rejected,  and 
when  done  nicely  brown,  they  eat  the  whole,  claws 
and  all.     Says  the  old  poet: 

•  I  HAVE  no  roast 
But  a  nut-brown  toast, 
And  a  crab  laid  in  the  fire : 
Much  meat  I  not  desire.' 

I  always  thought  that  the  shell-fish  was  referred 
to  in  these  verses,  but  am  informed  by  one  well 
versed  in  literary  things  that  the  allusion  is  to  the 
crab-apple,  which  was  used  to  garnish  a  dish.  There 
will  be  no  harm,  however,  in  making  the  applica- 
tion double.  When  I  was  a  boy — since  which  many 
years  have  elapsed,  although  it  seems  but  yesterday 
— I  used  to  resort  to  an  old  mill  on  the  salt  meadows 
of  Long-Island,  where  a  creek  put  up  from  a  neigh- 
bouring bay,  to  fish  for  crabs.  All  which  was  re- 
quired was  a  good  strong  net,  a  piece  of  string,  a 
bit  of  lead  for  a  sinker,  a  small  chunk  of  meat,  or  a 
lew  clams  for  bait.  The  crab  pulls  strong  and 
steadily,  and  seldom  lets  go  his  hold  unless  you  jerk 
him,  and  then,  if  the  water  is  clear,  you  will  see  him 
slinking  and  sliding  off,  with  a  sidelong  motion,  and 
with  great  rapidity  toward  the  bottom.     When  you 


252  UP    THE    RIVER. 

are  sure  that  he  has  well  fastened  on  the  bait,  you 
draw  in  very  slowly  and  gradually,  conjecturing  his 
size  and  fatness  from  the  strength  with  which  he 
pulls ;  and  the  excitement  increases  until  his  brown 
shell  and  formidable  claws  begin  to  appear  above  the 
surface,  when  you  dexterously  slip  the  net  under  him. 
and  he  is  yours.  It  requires  some  tact  then,  to  turn 
the  net  suddenly  the  wrong  side  out,  before  he  be- 
comes entangled  in  the  meshes.  When  you  have 
got  him  on  the  ground,  at  a  sufficient  distance  from 
the  wave,  he  will  exhibit  a  remarkable  rapidity  of 
locomotion,  travelling  forward,  yet  backward,  to- 
ward the  element  from  which  he  came.  Then  is  the 
time  to  put  your  foot  on  his  back,  and  to  look  out  for 
your  fingers,  for  he  is  a  spiteful  customer.  Nab  him 
effectually  by  the  hind-claws,  exerting  an  antago- 
nistic strength  against  his  powerful  muscles,  and  put 
him  in  the  basket.  The  beauty  of  this  sport  is,  that 
your  line  is  already  baited ;  and  if  you  go  at  the 
right  time  of  tide,  you  do  not  have  to  wait  long,  for 
abundance  of  these  brown  shells  have  come,  to  feast 
on  the  'fat  of  the  land.'  Sometimes  the  crab  nips 
so  eagerly  that  you  can  jerk  him  out  of  the  water 
without  net,  but  it  is  hardly  worth  while  to  make 
the  attempt  if  you  are  so  provided.  When  your 
basket  is  half-full,  keep  a  sharp  look-out,  or  they 


UP    THE    KIVEll.  253 

will  scramble  and  scrabble  out  of  it,  for  they  are 
bustling-  about,  biting  and  grabbing-  one  another,  ex- 
hibiting a  temper  far  from  amiable.  Having  reached 
home  with  your  prize,  you  tell  the  cook  to  put  them 
in  boiling  water  with  a  little  salt  in  it.  ''JMiis,'  says 
the  kind-hearted  Mrs.  Hale,  'may  appear  cruel,  but 
life  cannot  be  taken  without  pain.'  The  only  draw- 
back to  the  pleasure  of  crabbing,  is  the  chance  of 
taking-  now  and  then  a  wriggling  eel,  which  you  do 
not  want,  and  which  is  hard  to  get  rid  of.  Perhaps 
IzAAK  Walton,  who  has  thrown  the  charm  of  a 
scholastic  elegance  about  the  art  of  trout-fishing, 
would  have  disdained  to  employ  his  net  in  this 
fashion.  And  it  is  true  that  the  crab  is  associated 
with  no  poetic  meditations,  except  of  a  good  supper; 
neither  does  this  kind  of  sport  afford  such  leisure 
intervals  to  think  upon  the  pleasant  fields  and  (lowers 
which  skirt  the  meadows.  Jt  is  devoid  of  science  and 
demands  no  nicety  of  skill  with  which  to  outwit  the 
'scaly  people,'  and  which  makes  the  capture  of  each 
trout  a  triumph.  But  then  there  are  no  hooks  bit 
off;  no  disappointment  of  empty  baskets;  no 
tantalizing  sight  of  fish  lla.shiug  in  mid-air,  and 
then  falling  back  into  the  water;  no  tedious  sit- 
ting on  a  rock  to  fill  up  the  waste  time  \\ilh  medita- 
tion.   The  tact  of  catching  fish  is  a  natural  gift,  and 


254  UP    THE    RIVER. 

is  not  to  be  learned  from  books  or  from  the  experi- 
ence of  others.  It  is  accompanied  by  an  inborn  love 
of  the  pursuit,  and  an  instinctive  knowledge.  Bill 
Mallory  will  throw  his  line  into  a  mountain  trout- 
stream  full  of  stumps,  sticks,  branches,  and  obstruc- 
tions, in  nine  cases  out  of  ten,  so  as  to  avoid  them 
all  ;  but  if  his  hook  gets  fastened  out  of  sight,  or  his 
snell  wound  round  and  round  the  slender  twig,  by 
some  dexterous  twitch,  some  easing  process-,  some 
change  of  position,  some  compound  tug,  he  will  re- 
lease it  quickly  ;  while  his  fellow-fisherman  stamp- 
ing the  bank  is  deprived  of  hook  and  line  and  tem- 
per. He  will  manage,  with  a  knowing  look  and 
quiet  smile,  to  cast  his  hook  into  the  very  choicest 
pasturage  of  the  brook,  while  I,  less  fortunate,  toil 
all  day,  and  take  no  fish.  On  this  account  I  prefer 
to  go  a-crahhijig. 


July  15. — Although  living  near  the  river  at  pre- 
sent, I  am  not  exactly  in  sight  of  it,  (the  more's  the 
pity,)  and  am  not  quite  contented  until  I  get  upon 
its  banks.  Two  years  ago  I  was  within  a  few  yards 
of  the  wave  in  one  of  the  most  delicious  coves  of 
Long  Island  Sound.     When  the   tide    rose   high    by 


UP    THE    RIVER.  255 

the  joint  influence  of  moon  and  wind,  it  sometimes 
came  up  to  the  court-yard  gates,  salted  the  roots 
of  rose-bushes,  set  the  bean  poles  of  the  garden 
afloat,,  and  enabled  me  to  cry  ship  ahoy  !  to  a 
schooner  from  the  window  where  I  sat.  One  day 
the  pig  was  drowned,  and  the  chickens  cried  '  save 
me'  to  the  ducks.  At  that  time  I  had  a  boat  pre- 
sented to  me  by  Lady  H.,  called  the  '  Governor,' 
provided  properly  with  oars  and  sail.  Intending  to 
take  advantage  of  living  on  the  water-side  by  be- 
coming acquainted  with  naval  tactics,  I  forthwith 
tried  the  sail,  and  began  to  scud  about  the  harbour, 
until  an  untoward  accident  induced  me  to  abandon 
the  attempt  for  ever.  In  the  middle  of  the  stream 
lay  anchored  a  Connecticut  sloop  called  the  '  Julius 
Caesar,'  and  in  attempting  to  pass  before  her,  I  ran 
into  her  bows.  Taking  hold  of  the  boom  in  attempt- 
ing to  push  off,  my  boat  passed  from  beneath  me  and 
I  was  left  dangling  between  wind  and  water  for  a 
moment,  but  as  she  returned  presently,  I  fell  plump 
into  her  like  a  stone  with  no  damage  but  the  loss  of 
a  new  hat.  While  taking  down  the  sail,  I  was  so 
unfortunate  as  to  unship  the  rudder,  and  while  try- 
ing to  recover  the  rudder,  lost  one  oar,  and  while 
seeking  to  regain  that,  I  lost  the  other.  I  however 
pushed  the  boat  ashore  with  the  sprit,   put   the  sail 


256  UP    THE    RIVER. 

in  the  hay-loft  where  it  became  the  prey  of  mildew, 
and  never  cauo^ht  the  breeze  aofain.  One  nig-ht 
when  my  boat  had  been  drawn  up  high  and  dry,  and 
the  caulking  had  been  taken  out  preparatory  to  her 
being  recaulked,  two  fellows  took  a  notion  to  steal 
her,  and  had  they  not  been  good  swimmers,  would 
probably  have  been  drowned.  For  in  the  darkness 
of  the  night,  not  suspecting  her  condition,  and  hav- 
ing first  searched  for  and  found  the  oars,  they  launch- 
ed her  and  pulled  boldly  for  the  middle  of  the  stream. 
Before  long  they  took  to  bailing,  and  after  that  to 
swimming,  and  with  many  oaths  and  imprecations 
they  trotted  home  on  the  sands  and  hung  their 
jackets  up  to  dry.  '  The  Governor'  was  found  the 
next  day  bottom  upward  on  the  opposite  coasts. 
This  whole  Christian  country  from  end  to  end  is  in- 
fested with  thieves,  making  it  almost  the  bounden 
duty  of  every  honest  man  to  resolve  himself  into  a 
missionary  to  preach  up  honesty.  ]\Iy  boat  was  also 
shamefully  banged  about  by  those  who  took  hei 
without  license,  leaving  the  bottom  covered  with 
sand  and  ill-smelling  clams  and  decayed  crabs.  J 
was,  on  two  separate  occasions,  challenged  to  row 
by  two  ladies  for  a  slight  wager,  but  I  permitted 
them  both  to  beat  me,  out  of  politeness,  of  which 
fact    they  may  not  be  aware  until   this   day,    and  I 


UP    THE    RIVER.  257 

hope  that  they  will  excuse  me  for  mentioning  it.  I 
have  not,  however,  a  natural  taste  for  boating, 
though  extremely  fond  of  aquatic  excursions  when 
there  is  a  good  Palinurus  at  the  helm,  and  of  baiting 
hooks  for  ladies  who  are  tender  of  the  worms.  I 
like  amazingly  to  sail  about  in  a  good  yacht,  well 
manned  and  properly  provisioned,  whether  to  a 
neighbouring  port  or  to  the  grounds  where  in  cool 
waters  beneath  the  sheltering  rocks,  repose  the 
much-loved  black  fish.  Has  no  one  written  pisca- 
tory eclogues  ?     If  not,  perhaps  I  will  do  it. 


July  25. — To-day,  again,  I  was  delighted  with  the 
remarkable  effects  of  fogs  among  the  mountains,  as 
they  rolled  down  from  the  summits,  and,  breaking 
over  the  forest-tops,  fell  softly  into  the  deep  abyss 
in  many  a  snowy  cataract.  Before  sun-rise  there 
was  a  drenching  rain,  and  I  rose  and  shut  down  the 
sashes  in  my  chamber,  as  it  w^as  sifting  in  and  wet- 
ting the  carpet  ;  and,  beside,  the  air  w^as  exceed- 
ingly cool.  The  frequent  rains  have  been  amarkeil 
feature  in  this  most  delightful  summer.  Scarcely 
has  the  earth  begun  to  thirst,  or  living  things  to  pant 
under  the  ardent  sun,  when  the  grateful  clouds  have 
collected,  and  presently  there  has  been  vouchsafed 


258  UPTHERIVER. 

a  refreshing  shower.  If  the  streams  have  befeii 
scanty  for  a  week  or  two,  so  that  the  rocks  in  their 
beds  have  become  bare  and  liot,  and  the  water  trick- 
led among  the  stones,  in  a  little  while  the  tributary 
drops  have  coalesced,  and  what  with  fogs,  and  mists, 
and  showers,  have  gushed  down  through  every  gully 
into  the  impoverished  stream,  pouring  over  the  mill- 
dams  in  copious  floods,  and  adding  force  and  gran- 
deur to  the  most  insignificant  cascade  and  cataract. 
The  corn-blades  shine  brightly,  (I  speak  of  the  In- 
dian maize,)  and  there  has  just  been  gathered  in  the 
most  glorious  golden  harvest  that  ever  rewarded 
the  reaper.  Magnificent  as  the  sea  is,  with  its 
billows,  white  caps,  and  its  breakers,  its  sweet 
waves  softly  laving  the  delicious  shores,  have  you 
not  sometimes  been  more  refreshed  by  the  sight  of 
acres  upon  acres  of  wheat  all  ready  for  the  sickle  ; 
and  as  the  wind,  the  west  wind,  moves  along  the 
surface,  at  one  time  pouring  down  into  the  hol- 
lows and  the  valleys,  then  glancing  up  the  acclivi- 
ties ;  now  causing  the  whiter  and  silvery  stalks  to 
•  bow  down,  and  then  the  golden  heads  to  stand 
upright,  have  you  not  looked  down  from  a  high  hill  upon 
the  ripples  of  this  waving  ocean  ?  I,  for  one,  can 
never  see  the  harvests  of  this  glorious  land,  where 
there  is  bread  enough  for  all,  and  to  spare,    without 


UP    THE    RIVER.  259 

thinking  of  those  lately-impoverished  granaries 
Vi^hich  had  no  food  for  the  starving  people.  It  is 
only  when  the  heavens  are  brass,  and  the  blight 
comes,  and  the  hand  of  labour  is  of  no  value,  that 
we  feel  that  God  feeds  us.  To  starve  to  death  is 
hard  and  tantalizing,  when  almost  within  reach  of 
the  most  superabundant  plenty.  O  ye  people  of 
England  !  methinks  you  should  have  stripped  your- 
selves of  every  grandeur,  retrenched  all  your  luxu- 
ries, cast  down  your  precious  jewelry,  and  brought 
yourselves  to  a  mere  morsel  of  bread,  sooner  than 
have  let  that  thing  come  to  pass.  Yet  who  can 
doubt  that  such  a  price  was  thought  too  dear  to  buy 
the  luxury  of  doing  good  ?  And  there  within  the 
halls  which  overlooked  those  scenes  of  desperate 
sorrow  might  be  heard  the  voice  of  revelry  ;  the 
tables  groaned,  and  still  the  dance  was  woven,  and 
the  feast  went  on,  while  from  the  lordly  roofs  the 
lights  shone  down  upon  the  gold  and  silver  plate, 
emblazoned  with  the  arms  of  your  illustrious  ances 
tors,  and  made  the  wine  flash  brighter  in  the  gob 
lets,  which  maketh  glad  the  heart  of  man.  Here 
are  millions  upon  millions  of  acres,  blooming  almost 
spontaneously,  which  only  wait  the  hand  of  culture. 
The  soil  is  full  of  richness  :  the  vegetation  of  a  mul- 
titude oi  centuries  has  blended  with  its  mellow  loam, 


260 


UP    THE    RIVER 


in  places  where  the  plough  has  never  passed,  and 
where  the  sower  has  never  scattered.  Tend  it  with 
a  somewhat  sedulous  care,  and  from  the  bottom  of 
the  valleys  to  the  high  mountain-tops,  it  would 
burst  out  and  blossom  like  the  rose.  Indeed,  I  see 
not  how  a  universal  famine  could  prevail  among  us 
We  have  a  multitude  of  happy  valleys,  beside  that 
rolled  over  by  the  fruitful  Mississippi  ;  not  one  ma- 
jestic, melancholy  Nile  alone,  like  Egypt ;  and  the 
land  is  too  great  for  one  ansrel  of  destruction  to 
overlap  it  with  a  black  shadow.  For  if  a  drought 
should  fall  upon  the  Empire  State,  and  all  its  neigh- 
bouring compeers,  the  doors  of  the  great  western 
granaries  would  be  flung  wide  open,  the  freighted 
cars  of  burden  would  thunder  on  a  thousand 
miles  toward  the  hungry  spot,  from  many  a  bright 
and  green  oasis,  to  equalize  the  gifts  of  God,  bear- 
ing the  corn  more  precious  far  than  yellow  gold, 
and  the  very  standard  of  golden  value. 


XV. 


August  8. 


-:^- 


,'7    r.    ',■        •'      V  . 


SAID  something 
about  mosquitoes, 
which,  after  all,  is 
too  serious  a  mat- 
ter to  trifle  with. 
The  frequent  rains 
have  been  produc- 
|tive  of  great  swarms 
of  these  detestable 
and  annoying  visi- 
tors, who  are  rank- 
ed in  the  same  ca- 
tegory with  fleas 
and  a  certain  name- 
less domestic  bug. 
It  takes  a  strong 
wind  or  a  sharp  frost  to  annihilate  these  blood-suck- 


262  UP    THE    RIVER. 

ers  on  wings.  When  ihey  get  into  the  upper  rooms 
there  they  stick,  and  the  whole  household  must  be 
resolved  into  a  vigilant  police  to  detect  them  in 
their  secret  hiding-places.  Before  retiring  for  the 
night,  you  take  a  candle  and  trim  the  wick  so  as  to 
afford  a  clear  light,  shut  down  the  windows,  and 
commence  the  search.  This  is  pleasant  work,  and 
is  performed  with  all  the  alacrity  which  attends  the 
satisfaction  of  a  deep  grudge.  To  stop  their  music 
for  the  night  and  ever  more,  is  the  object  of  your 
candle-light  campaign.  And  first,  you  take  a  gen- 
eral survey  of  the  walls  to  see  the  number  and  dis- 
position of  the  troops,  hearken  with  the  acute  ear 
of  an  Indian  to  detect  the  hum  of  preparation  in  the 
distance,  and  take  notice  of  a  few  scouts  who  are 
moving  about.  Then  you  set  down  the  candle,  pull 
off  your  coat  and  shoes,  turn  up  your  wristbands,  and 
take  a  soiled  towel  to  apply  it  again  to  practical 
use,  before  it  is  tossed  into  the  basket.  Fold  the 
towel  neatly,  so  that  it  may  lie  flat  on  the  palm  of 
you  hand,  and  go  to  work  on  the  Johnsonian  theory, 
that  '  killing  is  no  murder.'  Never  mind  the  walls. 
Looks  are  a  minor  consideration  to  true  comfort,  a 
maxim  which  is  little  practised  by  some  people  now- 
a-days.  Now.  my  little  Maretzeks,  your  opera  will 
not  succeed  to-night.     It  costs  too  much  ;  there  are 


UP    THE    RIVER.  263 

too  many  tenors  in  the  band.  With  satisfaction  you 
look  upon  the  first  victim.  He  is  pendent  on  the 
celling  with  hisheadtothe  antipodes,  stickingormov- 
ing  about  with  a  secure  foot-hold  on  the  principle  of  ex- 
haustion of  the  air  and  pressure  of  the  external  atmos- 
phere. How  marvellous  the  apparatus  !  There  is 
at  present  a  great  man-fly  who  can  walk  upon  walls, 
but  not  so  glibly.  The  mosquitoe  is  directly  over 
your  bed,  a  fine,  plump  fellow,  with  blithe  legs. 
Slap  ! — he  has  departed  this  Yiie,  felix  opportunitate 
mortis.  Twirl  him  up  in  your  fingers,  and  be  as- 
tonished that  from  a  speck  of  dust  such  an  ingeni- 
ous, vital  piece  of  mechanism  could  have  been  form- 
ed a  proboscis  wonderful  as  an  elephant's  ;  an  ap- 
paratus for  exhausting  the  air  more  perfect  than 
man  can  make  ;  a  faculty  for  disturbing  the  temper 
and  exciting  to  action  some  of  the  strongest  passions 
of  a  philosophic  man  !  There's  another.  Ah  !  he's 
gone  ;  flown  clean  over  to  the  most  remote  part  of 
the  room.  The  rascals  dodge  if  they  do  but  catch 
your  eye,  refusing  to  look  you  in  the  face  ;  and  from 
that  time  until  the  lights  are  out  and  all  is  still,  they 
skulk.  Do  not  fight  the  battle  by  halves  ;  pursue 
the  fugitives;  track  them  to  their  ambuscades; 
shake  the  counterpanes  and  loose  articles  of  dress  ; 
look   high,  look  low  on  your  hands  and  knees  ;    in- 


264  UP     THE    mVER. 

spect  the  carpet.  Behold  the  little  fellow  on  the 
very  angle  of  the  mantle-piece.  Slap  ! — that's  good! 
he's  out  of  harm's  way,  and  that  makes  two.  You 
don't  see  any  more,  but  you  hear  one,  and  by  no 
means  think  it  a  small  matter  if  there  is  only  one. 
He  will  be  sure  to  find  you  out  ;  he  is  there  for  the 
express  purpose  of  preying  on  flesh  and  blood.  Fee- 
fo-fum.  Dead  or  alive  he  will  have  some.  Hanging 
above  your  head  in  some  uncertain  part  of  the  fir- 
mament he  will  sing  for  the  half  hour,  alight  mo- 
mentarily upon  your  forehead,  change  his  mind  and 
descend  on  your  hand  ;  finding  it  not  very  plump, 
he  will  go  to  your  ancles  ;  convinced  that  he  has 
made  a  mistake,  will  return  to  head  quarters  and 
bite  your  temples,  while  you  box  your  ears  and  slap 
your  cheeks  in  vain.  One  mosquitoe  is  as  good  as 
a  swarm,  for  in  the  morning  you  wake  up,  if  you 
have  been  asleep  at  all,  and  find  yourself  vaccinated 
in  a  hundred  places  with  virulent  poison,  covered 
with  blotches,  wishing  that  yon  had  a  hundred  hands, 
and  that  they  were  all  actively  employed  in  scratch- 
ing. Briareus  alone  would  be  in  a  state  of  toler- 
able comfort.  With  regard  to  instinct,  the  mos- 
quitoe is  not  a  whit  inferior  to  the  more  sizable  nui- 
sances of  creation. He  prefers  the  cheek  of  a  young 
maiden,  but  if  she  is  Turkishly  veiled,   he   can   sip 


UP    THE    RIVER.  265 

from  another  source  under  the  wing  of  a  horse-fly. 
As  to  nrian,  the  uses  of  this  affliction  are  uncertain, 
but  perhaps  these  petty  stings  are  intended  to  pre- 
pare the  way  for  his  sublimer  sorrows. 


August  9. — There  is  a  saying,  '  the  winter  goes 
out  like  a  lion.'  The  same  expression  might  be  ap- 
plied to  summer  if  there  is  any  fierceness  in  the  sun. 
Some  days  at  the  latter  part  of  the  season,  those 
which  announce  the  advent  of  the  locusts,  and  pre- 
cede the  arrival  of  the  catydids,  become  notorious 
for  a  raging  heat,  like  that  which  comes  from  the 
Desert  of  Sahara.  Their  character  is  duly  chroni- 
cled and  remembered.  The  silvery  tides  steal  up 
in  the  long  and  glassy  reservoirs.  The  temperature 
of  these  days  is  productive  of  a  languor  and  dead 
sickness.  In  vain  the  plums  are  plentiful,  and  the 
grapes  become  ripe,  and  the  harvest-apples  blush 
with  a  red  tinge  ;  no  sight  is  agreeable  but  that  of 
the  rippling  waves,  and  no  sound  but  that  of  the 
tinkling  ice.  O,  ye  breakers  of  Rockaway !  you 
apostrophize,  would  that  I  might  dash  into  your 
midst.  0,  ye  rivers  which  lave  the  shores,  might  I 
but  dip  my  feet  in  your  waves  !     O,   thou  cataract 


266  UP    THE    EIVER. 

of  Niagara  !  that  I  could  at  this  moment  behold  you 
plunge  !     O,   ices   and   snows   of  the  Alpine  moun- 
tains,  how  agreeable  your  sight  !     0,  avalanches  ! 
— Anne  !  Anne  !  Anne  !  where   are  you  !  bring  a 
bucket    of  fresh   water,  and   throw  this   lukewarm 
fluid  aw^ay  !     How  hot  is  this  black  collar !     There, 
there  !     This  button  pinches  the  throat !     I  am  go- 
ing to  pull   my   coat  off,  and  my  waist-coat  !     That 
feels  better.     Now  I  hope  that  no  people  will  come. 
If  they  do,  I  shall  not  see  them.     Preserve  me  from 
intrusion   on  a  very  cold  day,   or   on   a  very  w'arm. 
At  these  times   you   read  the  bills  of  mortality  and 
think  of  your  fat  friends,  your  sickly  acquaintances, 
the  city  babies  who  are  toted  about  the  parks.  You 
cannot  eat  your  dinner.     With  a  desperate  malignity 
you  attack  the  faults  of  every  body  whom  you  know. 
Then  you  take  up  the  newspaper  and  complain  that 
it  is  dull,  nothing  stirring.     A   great  many  people 
are  sun-struck.     Stupid  hod-carriers  !  perhaps  they 
were  never  struck  with  anything  else  in  their  lives. 
Every  body  is  out   of  humour,   and   this   is   plainly 
shown  in   the    daily   papers.      One   man    complains 
that  he  cannot  see  at  the  Opera,  at  the  Castle  Gar- 
den,   because   there   is    a   pillar   in  the  way  right  in 
front    of   the    stage  ;   another,    that   the   boiler  of  a 
steam-boat  on  which  he  travelled  blew  up  ;  another, 


UP    THE    RIVE  11.  267 

that  the  mails  are  irregularly  carried,  or  that  the 
teleg-raph  is  not  worth  a  rush  ;  a  fourth,  that  as  he 
journeyed  in  the  omnibus  a  bullet  was  shot  into  it 
by  a  negro  as  black  as  soot ;  all  calling  upon  the 
editor,  by  the  virtue  which  is  in  him,  to  avenge  these 
injuries  which  have  become  intolerable  and  not  to 
be  endured.  As  to  the  pistol-shot,  for  my  own  part, 
I  am  perfectly  convinced  that  you  cannot  pack  four- 
teen or  sixteen  people,  promiscuously  brought  to- 
gether in  an  omnibus,  (which  is  the  ordinary  load,) 
among  whom  there  is  not  at  least  one  deserving  to 
be  shot.  Let  us  hear  no  more  on  that  score,  since 
nobody  was  hurt,  and  the  negro  is  at  large.  This 
last  exploit  was  perfectly  trivial  compared  with  what 
is  done  in  the  city  every  day.  I  remember  a  fat 
virago  who  had  beaten  her  husband,  and  entered  a 
pathetic  plea  in  his  behalf  before  the  Judge.  He 
had  invited  a  friend  to  smoke  a  pipe  with  him,  and 
all  which  he  had  done  was  to  deposit  a  little  gun- 
powder in  the  bowl  of  the  pipe,  so  that  when  it  ex- 
ploded, it  carried  away  the  end  of  his  friend's  nose. 
'What  of  that?'  she  protested;  'was  it  worth 
while  for  a  thing  of  that  kind  to  bring  a  poor  man 
into  court  for  everybody  to  stare  at  V  Certainly 
not.     But   perhaps   all  this  smacks  of  peevishness 


268  UP    THE    RIVER. 

and  hot  weather,     As  Saxe  says,  with  much  facility 
of  numbers  : — 


Heaven-  help  us  all  in  these  terrific  daj-s  ; 

The  burning  sun  ujion  the  earth  is  pelting 
With  his  directest,  fiercest,  hottest  rays, 

And  everv  thing  is  melting. 


While  prudent  mortals  curb  with  strictest  care 
All  vagrant  curs,  it  seems  the  queerest  puzzle 

The  dog-star  rages  rabid  through  the  air, 
Without  the  slightest  muzzle. 

But  Jove  is  wise  and  equal  in  his  sway, 

Howe'er  it  seems  to  clash  with  human  reason  ; 

His  fiery  dogs  will  soon  have  had  their  day. 
And  men  shall  have  a  season.' 


August  10. — Smythe,  who  came  here  to  spend 
the  summer,  expected  to-day  his  little  Mexican 
pony,  which  had  been  in  the  battle  of  Buena  Vista. 
I  rode  down  to  the  boat  in  Smythe's  carriage  with 
his  man  Alexander.  On  approaching,  the  little 
black  war-horse  was  descried  in  company  of  several 
others  on  the  bow.  He  was  a  well-rounded  animal, 
with  a  flowing  mane,  handsome  tail,  and  mischievous 
eye.  No  sooner  had  Alexander  conducted  him 
upon  the  sands  than  he  began  to  make  amends  for 
his  cramped  position  on  the  voyage,  rearing  up  on  his 
hind-legs,    and     squealing     prodigiously.       Among 


UP    THE    RIVER.  269 

other  feats,  he  stood  almost  upright,  his  head  high 
in  air,  and  attempted  to  plant  his  hoofs  on  Alexan- 
der''s  croion,  which  would  have  been  the  ruin  of  that 
regal  piece  of  furniture.  After  that,  he  curvetted 
about,  and  finally  succeeded  in  tearing  the  halter 
out  of  Alexander's  hand.  Some  one  then  assisted 
in  passing  the  rope  between  his  teeth,  and  fastening 
the  noose  tightly  over  his  nose,  after  which  he  con- 
sented to  be  led.  This  being  slow  work,  Smythe 
told  Alexander  to  get  into  the  carriage,  wind  the 
rope  round  his  hand,  and  so  conduct  him  in  the  rear. 
We  had  proceeded  about  two  miles  peaceably,  and 
the  sun  was  down,  when  Mexico,  perceiving  some 
excellent  herbage  by  the  way-side,  gave  the  halter  a 
sudden  jerk,  and  he  was  loose.  To  catch  him  ap- 
peared easy,  but  it  turned  out  to  be  difficult.  For 
no  sooner  had  you  approached  within  a  few  feet  of 
him  than  he  gave  a  bound  and  retreated  down  the 
road  about  a  hundred  yards,  where  he  began  again 
quietly  to  graze.  This  he  repeated  many  times, 
until  he  had  traveled  back  a  half  a  mile,  when  he 
was  caught.  '  Now,'  says  Smythe,  '  this  time  do 
you  hold  him  tightly.'  But  scarcely  had  the  car- 
riage started  than  he  pulled  most  violently,  tore  the 
skin  from  Alexander's  hand,  and  was  off.  All  ef- 
fort was  now  made  to  capture  the  mischievous  little 


270  UP    THE     RIVER. 

beast,  but  becoming  irritated,  at  last,  by  having  his 
will  thwarted,  he  dashed  off  on  the  full  gallop  to  the 
water-side,  where  he  soon  came  plump  up  to  his 
belly  in  a  deep  marsh,  and  we  could  see  him  in  the 
dim  twilight  floundering  and  flopping  about  with  pro- 
digious violence,  and  entirely  beyond  reach.  Smythe 
came  back  in  a  most  vindictive  passion,  exhausting 
a  vocabulary  of  no  choice  epithets,  saying  that  he 
might  go  where  he  liked  and  get  drowned;  that  he 
should  not  trouble  his  head  about  him,  and  so  drove 
home  in  moody  silence.  '  Where's  the  horse  V  ex- 
claimed all  the  ladies  on  the  piazza.  '  Where's 
your  horse?'  exclaimed  one  and  another,  till  the 
question  became  vexatious  in  the  extreme.  Smythe 
drank  three  cups  of  tea,  lit  a  cigar,  and  stood  in 
silence  on  the  bank  marking  the  eff'ect  of  moon  shine 
on  the  flashing  waves,  and  listening  to  the  hoarse 
suspiration  of  the  porpoises  who  were  disporting  in 
the  full  tide.  At  ten  o'clock  the  pony  was  brought 
home,  covered  with  mud,  in  an  ugly  temper,  and 
disposed  to  bite. 


August  1 1 . — Smythe  intended  his  Buena  Vistan  for 
a  ladies'  saddle-horse,  but  his  war-horse  attitudes 
and  rough-and-ready  way  of  grabbing  the  bit   made 


I 
( 


U  P    T  H  E    11 1  V  E  R .  27 1 

it  necessary  to  put  him  in  harness.  He  was  accord- 
ingly hitched  to  a  carriage,  the  lash  was  smartly 
laid  on,  and  his  master  and  I  proceeded  at  a  rapid 
pace  over  some  of  the  most  romantic  hill-tops 
of  the  country.  Here  Mexico  at  first  j-ustified  his 
reputation  as  a  most  gentle  creature,  only  a  little 
lively  from  the  effect  of  oats,  and  full  of  fun.  He 
came  very  near,  however,  getting  us  into  trouble. 
In  passing  over  a  mill-dam,  where  there  was  some 
little  commotion  of  the  water,  he  shyed  in  the  middle 
of  a  bridge  which  had  no  balustrades,  advancing  so 
near  to  the  brink  that  another  step  would  have 
plunged  us  both  into  the  stream.  With  great  nim- 
bleness  we  got  out  behind,  and  his  master,  going  to 
his  head,  led  him  on  for  a  few  yards,  (his  master 
appearing  exceedingly  pale,)  when  he  was  driven 
home  without  trouble.  In  the  evening,  a  riding- 
party  was  formed,  and  an  adventurous  Diana  Vernon 
volunteered  to  mount  Mexico.  He  was  brought  1o 
the  door  properly  saddled,  but  some  person  who  did 
not  know  how  to  assist  a  lady  on  horse-back  by  the 
foot,  imprudently  placed  a  ciiair  at  his  side,  which 
Mexico  at  once  kicked  over,  and  began  to  wheel 
about  in  numerous  gyrations.  At  last,  the  rider 
being  firmly  seated,  pony  put  himself  in  those  ex- 
travagant attitudes  which  are  seen  in  battle-pictures, 


272  UP    THE    RIVER. 

to  the  great  alarm  of  some  of  the  lookers-on.  But 
a  few  vigorous  lashes  well  applied  caused  him  pre- 
sently to  fall  into  rank,  and  the  whole  party  were 
observed  to  proceed  prosperously  until  concealed  by 
a  bend  in  the  road. 

After  advancing  a  mile  or  two,  pony  insisted  upon 
being  a  little  in  advance,  and,  as  usual,  would  have 
his  own  way,  until  from  the  effect  of  checking  and 
whipping  he  broke  suddenly  into  an  irresistible  gal- 
lop. The  rest,  alarmed,  urged  on  the  horses  to 
keep  up,  if  possible,  while  Smythe  gallantly  tried 
to  head  him  off.  But  the  sound  of  clattering  hoofs 
in  the  rear  only  put  him  on  his  mettle,  and  made 
him  go  the  faster  ;  seeing  which,  the  others  were 
compelled  to  check  up,  straining  their  eyes  after 
Diana,  who  was  carried  along  with  the  speed  of  the 
wind.  The  utmost  apprehension  filled  the  minds  of  the 
whole  party ;  and  the  cheeks,  which  were  lately  as  red 
as  the  rose,  became  blanched  like  ashes.  They  imagin 
ed  that  they  saw  the  rider  j  ust  ready  to  fall,  and  riding 
on  a  fast  canter  sometimes  with  exclamations  of 
alarm,  and  again  in  a  dead  silence  followed  for  a 
mile  farther  the  course  of  that  shady  lane.  At  last, 
a  man,  distinguishable  by  a  white  hat,  was  seen  in 
advance  of  the  Vernon,  and  great  hopes  were  placed 
on  his  timely  assistance,  and  not  in  vain.     He  per- 


UP    THE    RIVER.  273 

ceived  the  predicament,  planted  himself  firmly  in 
the  middle  of  the  road,  took  off  his  white  hat,  and 
swaying  it  violently  before  the  eyes  of  the  approach- 
ing Mexico,  caused  him  to  sheer  off  up  a  gentle  ac- 
clivity, and  brought  him  up  all  standing  against  the 
fence.  In  a  moment  more,  the  party  arrived  breath- 
less. There  was  an  exchange  of  saddles,  and  the 
gallant  Smythe,  striding  the  wicked  beast,  galled 
his  mouth  well,  and  basted  his  sides,  again  ariving 
at  the  goal  in  advance. 

It  is  said  that  a  Mexican  officer  was  shot  from 
the  back  of  the  pony  at  Buena  Vista,  that  famous 
battle-field  where  five  thousand  volunteering  Yan- 
kees took  possession  of  the  field  occupied  by  tw^enty 
thousand  of  that  degenerate  race,  now  ruled  over 
by  the  illustrious  Santa  Anna.  Perhaps  in  that 
campaign  he  got  a  taste  for  tumbling  people  from 
his  back.  His  sides  had  been  formerly  branded 
with  a  hot  iron,  which  was  the  only  blemish  on  his 
sleek  skin.  From  the  date  of  the  present  adventure, 
he  was  abandoned  by  his  fair  patrons,  driven  in 
harness,  and  backed  only  by  the  rougher  sex. 
Horsemanship  is  an  accomplishment  that,  if  fearless 
and  skilful,  is  both  delightful  and  safe.  But  rude 
and  untamed  beasts  should  never  be  ridden  by  ladies 
for  the  mere  purpose  of  recreation,  unless  they  hap 


274  UP    THE    RIYEPv 

pen  to  be  Amazons,  as  their  position  on  the  saddle, 
however  brave  they  may  be,  does  not  give  them  a 
full  control.  In  cases  of  danger,  the  attendant  ca- 
valier can,  for  the  most  part,  render  no  succour, 
although  I  have  once  or  twice  seen  the  requisite  aid 
bestowed  with  an  incomparable  grace  and  efficiency. 
To  dash  up  to  a  refractory  steed,  seize  the  bit  and 
bridle,  re-arrange  the  girth,  pass  the  arm  quietly 
about  the  waist  of  the  falling  maiden,  and  re-assure 
both  the  horse  and  the  rider,  is  the  part  of  the 
most  accomplished  knight,  who  by  virtue  of  his  tact, 
may  be  well  deserving  of  his  pleasant  burden.  But 
under  proper  auspices  no  spectacle  is  more  pleasing 
or  exhilarating,  nor  free  from  alarm,  than  a  spirited 
courser,  who  seems  proud  of  the  charge  he  bears;  nor 
can  any  position  more  serve  to  set  off  the  charms  of 
a  stately  woman.  For  mark  how  every  rustic  drops 
his  hoe  ;  the  plough  stands  still  ;  the  golden  grain 
still  takes  a  momentary  lease,  when,  with  quadrupe- 
dante  tramp,  just  like  a  vision,  bursts  upon  the  sight 
the  lovely  cavalcade.  With  buoyant  grace  they 
float  upon  the  air,  serenely  gay ;  eyes  sparkling 
with  delight  ;  cheeks  mantling  with  the  rose,  and 
every  feature  speaking  with  the  zest  of  exercise. 
Sir  William   Jones,    once   looking   from  his    case- 


UP    THE    RIVER.  275 

ment  in  the  East,  beheld  a  sight  like  this,  and  has 
recorded  his  impressions  : 

'  As  swiftly  sped  she  o'er  the  lawn 
Her  tresses  wooed  the  gale, 
And  not  more  lightly  glanced  the  fawn 
On  Sidon's  palmy  vale.'* 


August  12. — Where  now  are  all  those  delightful 
anticipations  of  the  country,  balmy  breezes,  spring- 
time excursions,  plenty  of  fresh  air  and  fresh  milk, 
flowery  meadows,  songs  of  birds,  excursions  up  the 
river?  Fulfilled  and  past.  The  heats  have  been 
excessive  ;  all  things  droop  and  lag  ;  a  blue  mist 
hangs  over  the  mountains,  indicative  of  droaght  ; 
the  mosquitoes  sing  all  night ;  the  day  opens  with 
a  sickening  heat  and  with  the  chaffering  of  locusts 
in  the  grove  ;  the  excessive  vegetation  begins  to 
have  a  rank  smell  ;  elasticity  departs  ;  and  the  ani- 
mal man  feels  bad.  What  creatures  of  circum- 
stance we  are  !  The  utmost  which  you  can  do  is 
to  do  nothing  and  to  keep  a  serene  temper.  Turn 
the  butcher  from  your  door  ;  live  upon  rice  and  su- 

*  Quoted  from  memory. 


276  UP    THE    RIVER. 

gar  ;  shut  the  windows  to  keep  out  the  flies  and 
hot  air  ;  cultivate  the  grace  of  patience  ;  lounge  all 
day  and  make  your  oblutions  frequent  ;  revise  the 
classic  authors,  and  try  to  con  over  some  moral 
maxims,  that  the  time  may  not  be  all  lost.  '  A  mer 
ciful  man  is  merciful  to  his  beast.'  When  I  see  a 
poor  horse  lashed  to  the  top  of  his  speed  and  over- 
come with  his  exertions,  panting,  and  gasping,  and 
covered  with  foam,  I  could  wish  that  a  transmigra- 
tion of  souls  were  possible,  and  that  his  cruel  task- 
master, like  the  vixen  in  the  Arabian  Tale,  might 
be  transformed  into  the  ill-used  beast,  and  lashed 
and  goaded  without  stint  for  his  cruelty.  Not  long 
ago,  I  met  a  negro  going  about  the  country  with  an 
old  horse  and  cart  picking  up  the  dried  bones  of 
horses  to  be  ground  in  a  mill  and  converted  into 
manure.  He  had  arranged  the  skulls  in  a  row  quite 
regularly  along  the  edges  of  his  wagon,  and  as  I 
approached,  saluted  me  with  a  very  knowing  look 
and  cunning  grin,  as  if  expecting  some  recognition  of 
his  artistic  ingenuity.  '  What  is  the  name  of  your 
beast  V  said  I.  '  Lazarus,'  quoth  he,  with  a  smile  ; 
and,  in  fact,  I  thought  the  name  not  inappropriate, 
for  there  are  many  poor  horses  whose  raw  bones 
and  sunken  eyes  remind  you  of  the  sepulchre.  Some 
reflections  occurred  to  me  more  pathetic  than  those 


UP    THE    RIVER.  277 

derived  from  the  contemplation  of  Sterne's  dead 
ass.  Those  white  bones  were  the  frame-work  and 
timbers  of  once  useful  and  docile  beasts.  That  long 
skull  with  molars  well  worn,  indicates  a  beast  which 
has  served  his  master  well.  For  how  many  years 
had  he  drawn  heavy  burdens,  and  for  a  modicum 
of  hay  fulfilled  his  compact  while  he  could.  How 
many  times  had  he  been  ready  to  fall  under  the  ar- 
dent rays  of  the  sun.  How  many  lashes  had  he 
received  in  the  course  of  his  life.  At  last,  when 
old  and  sick,  he  was  denied  shelter  and  turned  out 
to  die.  He  fell  by  the  way-side,  covered  with  sores  ; 
and  at  last  the  crickets  lodged  in  the  sockets  of  his 
eyes. 


August  13. — To-day  has  been  a  desperate  day 
with  me.  The  thermometer  at  ninety  degrees  in 
the  shade.  Irritated  by  the  mosquitoes,  smarting 
from  head  to  foot,  sweltering  with  the  heat  and  gasp- 
ing for  breath,  at  twelve  ajvte  meridiem  I  held  a 
consultation  in  my  own  breast  to  know  if  any  defen 
sive  policy  could  be  adopted.  It  is  a  satisfaction, 
however  small,  to  wreak  your  vengeance  on  paper 


278  UP    THE    RIVER 

whicli  is  the  most  innocent  exhibition  of  discontent. 
I  intermitted  my  usual  walk  to  the  post-ofRce  to 
begin  with,  and  sacrificed  the  perusal  of  the  morn- 
ing's paper,  thereby  denying  myself  the  fresh  ac- 
count of  rail-road  slaughtery  and  poor  labourers 
killed  by  the  sun.  Next,  I  ordered  a  handful  of 
rice  and  a  few  tomatoes  to  b'^  cooked  for  dinner,  the 
same  to  be  eaten  at  any  hour  when  appetite 
should  justify  the  attempt.  I  then  carried  a  wash- 
tub  into  a  vacant  room,  poured  into  it  a  few  buckets 
of  rain-water,  and  set  a  large  piece  of  sponge 
a-floating  on  the  same.  I  have  a  cellar,  a  deep  cel- 
lar, a  capacious  cellar,  which  now,  as  always,  proved 
a  most  valuable  part  of  my  house.  Dug  ten  feet  be- 
low the  surface,  with  the  light  and  air  admitted 
through  a  few  apertures,  it  is  at  once  cool,  dry,  and 
salubrious — the  very  place  for  milk,  butter,  and 
cheeses,  with  which  my  neighbours  keep  me  well 
supplied.  Flies  or  mosquitoes  do  not  find  the  air 
sufliciently  genial  for  their  natures  ;  but  rats,  sly 
rats  abound.  I  carried  into  the  cellar  three  chairs 
and  a  cushion,  and  a  small  table,  an  ink-stand,  pens, 
and  a  few  sheets  of  paper,  a  small  stick  for  the  rats, 
and  Macaulay's  History  of  England.  Then  I  took 
a  sponging,  and  retreating  to  my  cell,  remained  for 
three  hours,  alternately  reading  and  writing,  and  at 


UP    THE    RIVER.  279 

intervals  coming  up  stairs  to  indulge  in  afresh  bath. 
The  air  of  the  place  was  most  salutary  ;  the  hot 
breeze  from  above  occasionally  came  in  puffs  through 
the  slats,  and  once  only  I  beheld  a  sly  rat  leering 
from  beneath  the  roots  of  a  cabbage,  and  with  his 
bright  eyes  intent  on  a  betty  of  oil.  Attacked  the 
rat,  and  then  back  to  Macauley  !  Perhaps  it  may 
be  a  weakness  to  reveal  these  small  personal  mat- 
ters, but  hot  days  like  the  above  deserve  to  be  com- 
memorated ;  and  I  would  wish  to  show  that  for 
every  grievance  we  have  an  ample  remedy  in  our 
power.  If  we  are  too  lazy  or  listless  to  apply  it, 
then  we  may  take  it  out  in  sighing  and  complaining, 
knitting  the  brows,  and  inflicting  our  ill-humour  on 
everybody  within  reach.  If  I  were  about  to  erect 
a  house,  which,  in  my  present  state  of  prosperity, 
does  not  seem  probable,  let  me  tell  you  what  I 
would  do.  I  would  sink  a  deep,  capacious  cellar, 
fill  in  the  subterranean  walls  with  some  substance 
to  exclude  the  damp,  and  build  me  rooms  which 
should  have  the  luxurious  coolness  of  an  under- 
ground palace.  Then  when  the  raging  heats  pre- 
vailed, I  should  not  be  compelled  to  sigh  for  the 
cool  sea-shore  or  for  the  high  mountain-top,  but 
would  be  contented  in  my  own  house,  and  thus  re- 
tiring to  the  'deep-delved  earth,'  save  some  valu- 


280  UP    THE    RIVEK. 

able  hours  of   study,   and  retrieve   more  from   las- 
situde, vexation,  and  ill-humour. 


August  14. — Again  the  heats  have  been  unmiti- 
gated, and  about  noon  the  sultriness  was  so  great 
that  existence  seemed  a  burden.  There  was  not  a 
cloud  in  the  sky,  and  I  gazed  in  vain  to  discover 
some  symptoms  of  a  coming  shower.  At  two 
o'clock,  retired  to  the  cellar,  and  read  Macaulay. 
Compared  with  the  insufferable  heat  which  came 
down  into  the  rooms  through  the  blistered  shingles, 
how  equable  was  the  climate.  A  sufficient  light 
stole  in  upon  the  well-printed  page,  and  with  a 
cooled  cranium  I  applied  myself  vigorously  to  the 
great  historian.  He  concentrates  so  much  allusion 
through  the  philosophy  of  his  antithetic  narrative  as 
to  tax  the  remembrance  of  those  not  read  up  in  the 
sources  of  history,  so  that  in  a  short  time  he  becomes 
painfully  brilliant  even  in  a  cellar.  Went  up  stairs 
presently,  and  found  the  atmosphere  dreadful,  and 
indulged  in  a  copious  ablution.  All  faces  were  ill- 
humoured,  and  the  strength  of  animal  bodies  gradu 

ally  oozed  out  at  every  pore,  and  I  said  to  R , 

'Go   upon   the  grass    and  tell    if  you    observe   any 


UPTHERIVER.  281 

clouds  on  the  horizon  ;'  just  as  the  wife  of  Blue- 
beard, when  the  emergency  was  pressing,  exclaimed  : 
'  O,  sister  Annie,  look  out  of  the  casement  !  Do 
you  not  see  any  thing  V  And  she  replied  :  '  I  see 
a  cloud  of  dust  rising  in  the  distance.'  And  so 
might  be  descried  a  few  dark  specks,  while  the  mu- 
sic of  far-off  thunder  was  heard  at  the  same  mo- 
ment. At  five  o'clock,  the  clouds  were  evidently 
working  around  from  the  south-west,  but  the  pros- 
pect was  not  favourable,  and  the  heat  of  the  sun 
continued  intense.  Yesterday,  we  had  the  same 
symptoms,  but  at  evening  the  heavens  were  brass, 
and  the  very  rays  of  the  moon  seemed  to  reflect  a 
portion  of  the  sun's  heat.  In  another  hour  the 
heavens  were  darkened,  and  a  refreshing  breeze 
came  up,  and  on  the  other  side  of  the  river  the 
clouds  were  evidently  discharging  rain,  for  I  could 
see  it  just  like  long  pencilings  of  the  rays  of  the 
Aurora  Borealis,  sweeping  around  and  gradually  ad- 
vancing over  vast  tracts  which,  at  that  very  instant, 
were  experiencing  relief.  Occasional  gusts  rifled 
the  trees  of  dead  leaves  ;  the  cattle  lowed  and  gal- 
loped through  the  clover-fields  in  search  of  shelter  ; 
and  carriages  dashed  along  the  road  in  great  haste 
for  their  destination.  In  a  short  time,  there  was  a 
coalition  of  clouds  from  all  quarters,  and  the  moun- 


282  UP    THE    RIVER. 

tains  before  us  were  entirely  obscured  from  view 
The  drops  descended  ;  the  play  of  lightning  was  in- 
cessant ;  a  tremendous  hurricane  came  down  the 
mountain,  prostrating  every  fragile  thing  in  its  path  ; 
hail-stones  began  to  play  plentifully  against  the 
panes  ;  and  in  an  instant  all  the  collected  moisture 
which  had  been  sucked  up  from  the  sea-gulfs  for  so 
many  days  swept  along  in  one  sheet ;  it  rolled  over 
the  stubble-fields  in  actual  waves,  and  through  the 
gullies  like  rivers.  Presently  the  earth  was  sated, 
and  the  invigorated  lungs  swelled  out  with  fresh  air 
like  a  sponge.  The  birds,  who  had  been  mute,  be- 
gan to  sing  on  the  branches  ;  the  quail  uttered  his 
sweet  peculiar  whistle  ;  and  the  night  advanced  with 
reiterated  showers.  Where  now  were  all  the  le- 
gions of  mosquitoes  ravenous  for  blood  ?  Swept 
along  by  the  invincible  wind  to  parts  unknown, 
those  only  excepted  who  have  taken  shelter  within 
doors,  and  it  will  go  hard  with  them.  When  a  little 
bird,  weared  out  with  the  frequent  librations  of  his 
wings,  seeks  refuge  in  your  house  all  trembling 
from  the  violence  of  the  hurricane,  you  catch  him, 
and  coop  him  kindly  in  your  hands,  smooth  down 
his  rumpled  feathers,  calm  his  palpitating  heart,  and 
when  the  storm  subsides  fling  him  back  into  his  na- 
tive air.     But  for  those  marauders  who  have  winffs 


UP    THE    RIVER.  283 

without  feathers,  and  carry  poison  in  their  bills,  you 
adopt  a  different  course.  You  grasp  at  them  in 
their  flight,  mash  them  flat  on  their  roosts,  slap  them 
down  on  the  walls,  urge  them  into  cob-webs  and 
cheer  on  the  little  spider  as  he  comes  down  the  in- 
visible rigging  to  his  prey.  Of  all  the  many  who 
ventured  on  your  hospitality  you  spare  not  a  single 
one.  But  if  you  have  a  good  microscope,  you  will 
take  a  scientific  look  at  the  little  tormentors,  and  not 
be  astonished  that  a  poultice  should  sometimes  be 
necessary  to  alleviate  their  fangs. 


Aug.  15. — In  the  above,  you  have  my  peevish 
diary  or  journal  for  a  week,  and  more  intense  suf- 
fering from  the  heat  of  the  sun,  was  perhaps  never 
experienced  in  the  same  space,  by  mortal  man. 
Whole  regiments  of  horses  gave  up  the  ghost  m  the 
midst  of  their  labours,  and  a  hundred  people  drop- 
ped down  dead,  in  a  single  day,  in  the  neighbouring 
city.  The  form  of  the  Pestilence  hovered  near,  like 
a  foul  bird  watching  the  prey  ;  like  a  dog  or  a  jackal, 
crouching  beneath  the  wall ;  when  suddenly  the 
rains  descended,  and  the  floods  came,  and  the  elec- 
tric fluias    resolved  themselves  into  red-hot    balls, 


284  UP    THE    HIVER. 

darting  flames,  and  passed  away  through  the  firma- 
ment, burning  up  the  noxious  gases,  and  cleansing  it 
of  impurities  ;  and  at  last,  the  sun,  veiled  of  his  ter- 
ror, came  forth  to  cheer  and  to  animate  :  a  light 
blue  haze,  like  a  precursor  of  Indian  summer,  over- 
spread the  mountains,  and  attempered  its  brilliancy, 
the  breezes  gushed  forth,  cool,  as  if  wafted  from 
crystal  reservoirs,  while  every  living  thing  which 
lately  gasped  and  panted,  drew  a  long  breath,  and 
the  whole  realm,  by  a  successful  revolution  of  the 
elements,  was  changed'at  once  from  a  burning  de- 
sert, to  a  bright  and  beautiful  oasis. 

Now,  the  languid  arms  are  nerved  anew,  and  the 
monotonous  song  of  the  cicada  is  lost  in  the  hum 
of  industry,  and  the  little  lambs  skip  in  the  fields, 
and  the  pig  no  longer  wallows  in  the  mud,  but  walks 
erect,  with  clean  and  shining  bristles,  in  all  the  dig- 
nity of  his  porcine  nature.  Now  the  sound  of  the 
hammer  is  again  heard,  and  the  workman  toils  on 
the  scaffold,  and  the  labourers  return  cheerily  when 
the  horn  blows  at  noon.  Now  you  can  look  on  the 
limpid  rolling  stream  without  desiring  to  share  with 
the  fishes,  or  to  be  amphibious,  like  the  alligator,  or 
the  seal.  It  is  enough  to  walk  upon  the  clean  mar- 
gin, to  pick  up  pebbles,  to  see  the  sails  glide  by,  to 
listen  to  the  plash  of  the  waves,  to  mark  the  thin- 


UP    THE    RIVER.  285 

legged  snipe,  as  they  run  before  you  on  the  beach, 
or  the  sea-gulls,  as  they  dart  about,  in  their  sharp, 
angular  wanderings  on  lithe  wings,  as  they  pause 
motionless,  then  drop  like  a  stone  into  the  river,  to 
bring  up  the  little  fishes  in  their  beaks.  You  are 
not  perpetually  dreaming  of  icy  draughts,  or,  like 
the  tired  Caesar,  crying,  '  Give  me  some  drink, 
Titinius.'  Those  who  knitted  the  brows  and  scowled 
when  the  rays  of  the  sun  scourged  them  as  with  a 
lash,  now  partake  of  the  bland  weather  as  a  matter 
of  course,  merely  saying  to  the  passer-by,  with  the 
indifferent  air  of  those  not  grateful  for  any  benefit, 
'  Fine  day — fine  day.'  These  valleys  between  the 
mountains  are  like  great  halls,  and  when  you  are 
released,  as  it  were,  from  a  hot  oven,  the  ventilation 
is  refreshing  beyond  expression  ;  and  although  I 
miss  your  damask  cheeks,  oh  roses,  and  you,  sweet 
breathed  honeysuckles,  from  whose  lips  the  hum- 
ming-bird dartingly  drinks,  as  you  burst  into  the 
open  windows,  and  twine  about  the  porch  ;  and 
though  all  the  sweeter  and  more  delicate  vegetables 
of  the  garden,  such  as  those  saccharine  and  much- 
prized  peas,  Prince  Albert  and  Queen  Victoria,  have 
given  place  to  corpulent  roots,  to  be  laid  up  for 
winter  use,  yet  walk  I  with  pleasure  among  the  still 
verdant  fields,    and   mar  ,  without  a  murmur,   the 


286  ^P    THE    RIVER. 

approach  of  the   season  which   is   heralded   by  the 
falling  leaf. 

Hast  thou  ever  read  '  The  Farmer's  Boy,'  com- 
posed by  Robert  Bloomfield  in  a  garret,  without  the 
aid  of  pen,  ink,  paper,  or  slate,  while  he  in  the  mean- 
time plied  the  awl,  and  pulled  the  waxed  thread? 
If  not,  procure  a  copy,  (I  have  the  first  American 
reprint,)  and  after  you  have  perused  it  faithfully, 
though  you  may  not  be  arrested  with  dazzling  beau- 
ties, it  will  leave  after  it  a  remembrance  like  the 
fragrance  from  a  bed  of  daisies  or  violets.  Although 
formally  divided  into  the  four  seasons,  it  is  by  no 
means  a  repetition  or  an  imitation  of  Thompson,  nor 
so  minute  in  its  particulars,  but  describing  only  the 
more  ordinary  incidents  of  a  country  life.  There 
had  been  few  good  pastorals  in  English,  most  com- 
positions of  this  kind  being  formed  too  frigidly  after 
classic  models,  smelling  more  of  the  oil-can  than 
the  milk-pail  ;  a  fact  which  gave  good  scope  to  the 
satiric  pen  which  indited  mock  eclogues.  These 
writers  affected  the  clown  with  not  more  success 
than  the  latter  would  ape  the  gentleman,  and,  al- 
though they  treated  of  swains,  rustic  lovers, 
bleating  lambs,  hedges  and  stiles,  and  banks  of  vio- 
lets, they  lacked  a  true  Doric  innocence  of  expres- 
sion,   and   the    sincere   spirit   of  the   pastoral  muse. 


UP    THE    R  I  V  E  11  .  287 

Milton  mourned,  indeed,  with  a  touching  lyric,  and 
tender  pathos,  the  death  of  his  '  loved  Lycidas,'  but 
for  the  rest,  their  artificial  poems,  however  highly 
polished,  and  filled  up  with  rustic  imagery,  recalled 
no  truthful  pictures  of  rural  life.  After  Thompson 
had  written  his  charming  work,  came  Bloomfield, 
and  there  were  scholars  at  the  time  who  thought 
that  the  composition  of  this  untutored  and  unher- 
alded bard  were  unequalled  since  the  days  of  Theo- 
critus. It  is  remarkable  for  ease,  sweetness,  and 
simplicity,  for  the  general  purity  of  its  style,  and  is 
a  standing  protest  against  the  old  motto,  'ne  sutor 
ulti'a  crepidam.''  There  are  true  pictures  in  this 
little  poem,  which  remind  one  of  Goldsmith's  village 
School-master.  Look,  for  instance,  at  those  passages 
which  describe  the  character  and  pursuits  of  Giles  : 


•  This  task  had  Giles,  in  fields  remote  from  home, 
Ott  as  he  wished  the  rosy  morn  to  come, 
Yet  never  famed  was  he,  nor  foremost  found 
To  break  the  seal  of  sleep  ;  his  sleep  was  sound. 
But  when  at  day-break  summoned  from  his  bed, 
Light  as  the  lark  that  caroled  o'er  his  head. 
His  sandy  way,  deep  worn  by  hasty  showers, 
O'erarched  with  oalcs  that  formed  fantastic  bowers, 
Waving  aloft  their  towering  branches  proud 
In  borrowed  tinges  from  the  eastern  cloud, — 
His  own  shrill  matin  joined  the  various  notes 
Of  Nature  s  music,  from  a  thousand  throats  ; 
Tlie  blackbird  strove,  witJi  emulation  sweet, 
And  Echo  answered  irom  her  close  retreat ; 
The  sporting  white-throat,  on  some  twig  s  end  borne, 
Poured  hymns  to  freedom  and  the  rising  morn  ; 


288  UP     THE    RIVER- 

Stopt  in  her  song,  perchance  the  starting  thrush 
Shook  a  -white  shower  from  the  blackthorn  bush, 
Where  dew-drops  thick  as  early  blossoms  hung, 
And  trembled  as  the  minstrel  sweetly  sung. 
Across  his  path,  in  either  gro%-e  to  hide. 
The  timid  rabbit  scouted  by  his  side ; 
Or  bold  cock-pheasant  stalked  along  the  road, 
AVhose  gold  and  purple  tints  alternate  glowed.' 

Is   not    that  genuine,  and  true  to   nature  ?     Bui 
Giles  is  a  man  of  all  work  : 

•  His  simple  errand  done,  he  homeward  hies ; 
Another  instantl 3'  his  place  supplies. 
The  clatt' ring  dairy-maid,  immersed  in  steam, 
Singing  and  scrubbing  'midst  her  milk  and  cream, 
Bawls  out,  '  Go  ffich  ihi-  cons  ."  he  hears  no  more, 
For  pigs,  and  ducks,  and  turkies,  throng  the  door, 
And  sitting  hens,  for  constant  war  prepared  ; 
A  concert  strange  to  that  which  late  he  heard. 


Forth  comes  the  maid,  and  like  the  morning  smiles — 
The  mistress,  too,  and  followed  close  by  Giles. 
A  friendly  tripod  forms  their  humble  seat, 
W'th  poilx  hrifrht  sconred,  and  delicate) y  sweet. 
Where  shadowing  elms  obstruct  the  morning  ray, 
Begins  their  work,  begins  the  simple  lay  ; 
The  full-charged  udder  yields  its  willing  strf^ams, 
While  Mary  sings  some  lover  s  amorous  dreams. 
And  crouching  Giles,  beneath  a  neighbouring  tree, 
Tugs  o'er  his  pail,  and  chants  with  equal  glee  ; 
Whose  hat,  with  tattered  brim  of  nap  so  bare. 
From  the  cow's  side  purloins  a  coat  of  hair, — 
A  mottled  ensign  of  his  harmless  trade — 
An  unambitious,  peaceable  cockade. 


Brisk  goes  the  work  beneath  each  busy  hand. 
And  Giles  must  trudge,  whoever  gives  command : 
A  Gibeonite  that  serves  them  all  by  turns, 
He  drains  the  pump,  from  him  tlie  faggot  burns  : 


UP    THE    RIVER.  ggg 

From  him  the  noisy  hogs  demand  their  food, 
While,  at  his  heels,  runs  many  a  chirping  brood. 
Or  down  his  path  in  expectation  stand, 
With  equal  strains  upon  his  strowing  hand  : 
Thus  wastes  the  morn,  till  each  with  pleasure  sees 
The  bustle  o'er,  and  pressed  the  new-made  cheese.' 


Now  mark  this  picture  of  lambs  at  play  : 


Now,  challenged  forth,  see  hither  one  by  one, 
From  every  side  assembling  play-mates  run  ! 
A  thousand  wily  antics  mark  their  stay, 
A  starting  crowd  impatient  of  delay. 
Like  the  fond  dove,  from  fearful  prison  freed. 
Each  seems  to  say,  '  Come,  let  us  try  our  speed !' 
Away  they  scour,  impetuous,  ardent,  strong. 
The  green  turf  trembling  as  they  bound  along  : 
Adown  the  slope,  then  up  the  hillock  climb. 
Where  every  mole-hill  is  a  bed  of  thyme  ; 
There,  panting,  stop  ;  yet  scarcely  can  refrain, — 
A  bird,  a  leaf,  will  set  them  off  again  ; 
Or,  if  a  gale  with  strength  unusual  blow, 
Sca'i'-rins  the  wild-b-ier  rotten  into  snow. 
Their  little  limbs  increasing  efforts  try  ; 
Like  the  torn  llowr  the  fair  assemblage  fly.' 


Here  is  one  more,  which  will  suffice  : 


•  He  comes,  the  pest  and  terror  of  the  yard. 
His  full-fledged  progeny's  imperious  guard. 
The  gand'-^  :  spiteful,  insolent  and  bold. 
At  the  colt's  footlock  takes  his  daring  hold; 
There,  serpent-like,  escapes  a  dreadful  blow. 
And  straight  attacks  a  poor,  defenceless  cow  ; 
Each  booby  goose  the  unworthy  strife  enjoys, 
And  hails  his  prowess  with  redoubled  noise. 
Then  back  he  stalks,  of  self-importance  fuU, 
Seizes  the  shaggy  fore-top  of  the  bull. 
Till,  whirled  aloft,  he  falls  a  timely  check, 
Enough  to  dislocate  his  worthless  neck  ; 
For  lo !  of  old  he  boasts  an  honoured  wound, — 
Behold  that  broken  wing,  that  trails  the  ground  1' 

13 


290  "UP    THE    RIVER. 

For    myself,    I    admire     Thompson    much,     and 
Bloomfield    more,    although    it   would    be  no    envi- 
able praise  to  stand  next  on  the  shelf  to  that  most 
exquisite    descriptive   poet.     The  first   is   more  ex- 
haustive of  topics,   but    the  second  has  produced  a 
work  not  less  rounded  and  complete.     The  one  is 
more   read,   but  the  other   is  not  less   remembered. 
For   the    one  depicts  like  a  true  artist,  and  simply, 
too  ;   the    other     artlessly   describes,   but    with    the 
same  truth.     They  are  like  shepherds  playing  alter- 
nate flutes   on  a  green  bank,  among  the  flocks  and 
kine,  and  we  listen  beside  the  hedge  to  the  air  or  me- 
lody ;  but  in  the  attitude  of   Colin,  when  the   tune 
is  done,  exclaim,  '  What  a  beautiful  second  /'  Bloom- 
field's   poem   does  not  seem  to  be  written  under  a 
sky-light,  (as  it  was,)  in  the  city,   but   beneath   the 
open  sky  itself;   for  it  smacks  of  the  soft,  sweet,  in- 
fluences of  nature,   whence  its  inspiration  was  de- 
rived ;   and    although  its   merit,    like    its    author,  is 
modest,    it  will   live  and  be   admired   among   loftier 
works,  so  long  as  the  daisy  is  not  put  to  shame    by 
the   damask-rose.     It    is   one    of   the  most   difficult 
among   literary  feats    to  write  a  good  pastoral.     In 
the  last  century,  when  passable  poetry  was  not  such 
a  drug  as  it  is  at  present,   and  the  bard,   as  in   Ho- 
mer's days,  was  considered  sacred,  it  was  customary 


UP    THE     RIVER.  291 

to  regard  a  rhyming  plough-boy,  or  a  poetic  dairy 
maid,  as  a  real  curiosity,  and  to  bring  them  out  for 
exhibition  into  the  drawing-rooms  of  people  of  quality, 
where  the  poor  creatures  were  smitten  with  amaze 
ment,  and  struck  dumb,  and  afterwards  rendered 
good  for  nothing,  when  their  rhyming  faculty  turned 
out  to  be  a  mere  ordinary  gift.  There  were,  how- 
ever, two  Robins,  whose  sweet  and  wholesome  notes 
have  justified  the  praise  of  those  who  love  Nature, 
and  have  confirmed  their  reputation  as  genuine  birds 
of  song — Robert  Bloomfield,  and  a  greater  still, 
Robert  Burns. 

Aug.  15  — The  willow  and  the  poplar  are  always 
associated  in  my  mind,  because  they  have  been  the  or- 
nament of  some  old  and  well  remembered  spots.  Nei- 
ther of  them  have  received  justice,  and  they  have 
been  rooted  from  the  spots  which  they  were  born  to 
grace,  to  make  room  for  the  stifferand  more  stately 
trees  of  the  forest.  The  acorns  drop  where  the  wil- 
lows should  weep,  and  the  elms'  branches  are  in- 
termingled in  the  narrow  lanes  where  the  long  row 
of  poplars  should  stand  like  sentinels.  All  trees  de- 
rive a  part  of  their  beauty  from  the  position  in  which 
they  are,  and  the  common  cedar  which  is  permitted 
to  grow  in  wild  patches,  or  by  the  way-side,  Avould 
become  illustrious  if  transplanted   to   the   lawn  to 


292  UP    THE    RIVER. 

stand  in  contrast  with  a  softer  foliage  and  with  other 
styles.     There  is  one  tree  for  the  knoll,  another  for 
the  nook,   another  for  the  avenue,   another  near  the 
stately  mansion,  and  all  may  be  intermingled  every 
where.       Sometimes    they    should   be   planted    like 
flowers  in  masses,  and  sometimes  singly  where  they 
will   be  set  off  and  relieved  by  their  neighbours,  so 
as   to  please  the  eye,  to  gratify  the  taste,  to  afford 
shelter,   to  enhance  beauty,  and  to  leave  nothing  to 
desire.     But   they  are    cut  down  with  the  civilized 
axe,    and   they  are  planted  without  judgment.     If 
they  are   near  a   house  they  are  often   removed   be- 
cause they  occasionally  obstruct  the  eaves  or  enter 
the  spring,    or    what  is   worse,  because  the  limber 
will   bring   money.     As   ladders   are  not  expensive, 
nor   labour   too   dear,  it  would  be  better  to  remove 
the  leaves  yearly,  or  even  to  dig  a  new  well  than  to 
cut  down  a  tree  because  of  its  roots.     The  shade  is 
often  as  desirable  as  cool  water,  and  a  house  stand- 
ing in  the  hot  sun  is  most  uninviting.      Many  people 
in   the    country  never   think  of  planting  a  tree,  nor 
hesitate  to  cut  one  down  for  a  few  dollars,  nor  have 
one  sentiment  with  respect  to  any  thing  except  the 
pork  and  beans  which  will  feed  them  and  the  laying 
up  of  money.      If  they  had  the  first    inkling  of  an 
idea  of  the  happiness  which  might  be  derived  from 


UP    THE    RIVER.  293 

Other   sources,   they  would  set  out  trees   as  well  as 
corn,  and  aspire  to  other  flowers  than  a  chance  holly 
hock. 

From  the  time  when  Pope  planted  the  first  willow 
in  England  until  now,  no  tree,  whether  native  or 
foreign,  has  competed  with  it  in  use  or  beauty.  Its 
tender  foliage  first  sprouts  in  spring  time  and  lin- 
gers to  the  very  verge  of  winter.  Its  crown  is  noble 
and  fai  spreading,  its  shade  ample,  and  its  limbs  are 
graceful  and  beautiful,  whether  they  droop  upon  the 
roof  of  the  old  homestead  or  into  clean  waters. 
Standing  singly  it  is  a  welcome  and  refreshing  sight, 
but  I  have  not  seen  what  would  be  the  effect  of  a 
whole  grove  or  forest  of  willows.  No  doubt  it 
would  be  delightful  in  the  extreme.  No  smell 
which  is  offensive  exudes  from  the  bark  or  sprouting 
foliage,  but  the  cattle  love  to  nip  it,  and  it  contains 
a  principle  which  is  a  powerful  antidote  to  the  poi- 
sonous miasma.  To  the  sick  or  the  consumptive  a 
twig  of  it  is  a  grateful  sight,  and  I  would  not  cut 
down  a  willow  except  for  the  most  stringent  neces- 
sity, unless  it  undermined  the  very  house  I  lived  in. 
It  is  indeed  true  that  its  branches  are  brittle,  and 
that  its  symmetry  is  often  injured  by  the  winds 
which  snap  off  the  tender  twigs  or  perhaps  uproot 
it  ;  but   it  has  this   advantage  ;  if  the  limbs  have 


294  UP    THE    RIVER. 

strayed  off  wildly,  or  its  form  has  }ost  symmetry,  you 
can  saw  off  the  tops  and  immediately  there  springs 
from  the  thick  trunk,  which  is  full  of  sap  and  tena- 
cious of  life,  a  green  and  tender  vegetation.  I  am 
surprised  that  the  willow  is  not  more  used  for  orna- 
ment, and  that  it  is  only  tolerated  as  long  as  con- 
venient, in  the  places  where  it  has  happened  to 
spring  up  ;  for  I  considerno  paradise  complete  with- 
out it,  and  it  ought  to  be  planted  and  tended  and 
trimmed,  with  as  much  care  as  the  best  tree  in  the 
forest. 

The  poplar  seems  to  have  gone  entirely  out  of 
date,  and  is  rooted  up  now  almost  invariably  wher- 
ever found.  Once  it  used  to  be  greatly  valued,  and 
pains  were  taken  to  plant  it  in  avenues  where  its 
unique  appearance  was  highly  becoming.  It  is  no 
longer  pop'lar,  but  this  is  usually  the  effect  of  ex- 
travagant admiration.  The  public  is  fickle  in  its 
tastes,  and  where  it  has  lavished  too  much  praise, 
at  last  refuses  any.  The  poplar,  it  is  true,  has 
many  faults.  It  soon  becomes  paralyzed  at  its  ex- 
tremities, as  tall  people  are  apt  to  be  sickly,  and 
abounds  in  dead  limbs  ;  it  has  a  tendency  to  overrun 
the  soil,  and  if  not  restricted,  may  make  itself  a 
nuisance,  but  under  proper  discipline  it  ought  to  be 
permitted  to  rank   among  the  trees.     It   makes   a 


UP    THE    RIVER.  295 

good  landmark  near  the  sea-shore,  and  although  its 
dry  branches  may  rattle  together  in  the  winds,  the 
helmsman  fixes  his  eye  upon  it,  and  it  becomes  the 
life  of  the  crew. 

The  locusts,  w'hich  for  many  years  have  been  af- 
flicted by  the  borers,  are  gradually  recovering,  and 
this  beautiful  and  most  valuable  tree,  has  never  lost 
favour. 

But  I  would  wish  to  say  a  good  w^ord  for  the 
Alanthus,  which  some  few  years  ago  was  all  the  rage 
and  now  is  evil  spoken  of,  and  rooted  out  of  enclos- 
ures. It  is  possible  to  slander  trees  as  well  as  men. 
It  is  said  that  the  smell  of  the  blossoms  is  deleterious 
and  unhealthful.  I  say  that  it  is  no  such  thing,  and 
that  if  it  were  so,  they  bloom  seldom,  and  are  scarcely 
ever  a  nuisance,  but  almost  always  afford  a  great 
shade  and  comfort.  Some  people  of  peculiar  or- 
ganizations have  defamed  them  lately  in  the  news- 
papers and  periodicals,  because  their  nerves  have 
been  affected  by  them  for  the  few  days  during  w  hich 
they  have  been  in  bloom.  There  are  those  also  who 
are  ready  to  faint  at  the  smell  of  the  lilach,  which  is 
exceedingly  sweet  and  powerful,  but  who  ever 
thought  of  banishing  it  frorn  the  court-yard?  its 
flowers  continue  for  a  short  space,  and  if  they  offend 
a  few,   they  are  very  welcome  to  the  many.     Such 


296  UP    THE    RIVER. 

is  the  case  with  the  Alanthus,  and  I  challenge  proof 
that  it  has  been  hurtful  to  the  health  of  any  one. 
It  is  of  rapid  growth,  and  affords  a  quick  interest  in 
shade  for  the  expense  invested.  This  is  certainly 
a  desirable  end  to  be  attained,  because  every  man 
would  naturally  wish  to  have  some  good  of  the  tree 
which  he  sets  out,  although  J  like  to  see  an  old  man 
sedulously  planting  acorns,  who  knows  that  even  his 
sons  may  not  live  to  behold  the  glory  of  the  oak. 
The  Alanthus,  it  is  true,  is  not  the  best  kind  of  tree 
nor  the  most  permanent,  but  its  shade  is  desirable 
until  you  can  make  other  trees  to  grow.  After  that 
when  it  becomes  old  and  scrawny,  cut  it  down  if  you 
please ;  but  in  the  mean  time  you  will  find  it  of 
great  value. 

But  he  who  plants  an  elm,  deserves  well  of  pos- 
terity. It  is  the  tree  of  trees.  Its  roots  grapple 
the  earth  and  make  its  hold  secure  against  the  ap- 
proaching tempest.  In  grandeur  of  proportions,  it 
is  only  equalled  by  symmetry  of  form  and  the  clean- 
ness of  its  foliage.  Its  stately  column  rises  to  an 
immense  height  before  lowest  limbs  by  degrees 
parting  from  the  main  trunk,  overarch  the  widest 
highways  and  the  highest  roofs.  It  counts  its  age 
by  centuries,  and  acquires  strength,  not  feebleness, 
by  old  age,  for  the  sap  rolls  in  rivers  from  its  great 


Uf    THE    RIVER.  097 

heart,  and  every  part  is  vital.  On  the  banks  of  the 
Hudson,  in  front  of  an  ancient  homestead,  where  the 
Order  of  the  Cincinnati  met,  there  is  an  elm  which 
is  the  crowning  glory  of  the  hill-top,  and  deserving 
to  be  venerated  by  the  near  grove.  It  is  a  tree- 
model  which  the  eye  of  the  painter  might  content- 
plate  with  pleasure,  and  I  have  seen  a  picture  of  it 
which  is  a  dainty  and  delicate  piece  of  pencilling, 
which  you  shall  see  presently. 

What  can  be  more  suggestive  to  one  inclined  to 
poetry,  than  the  noble  tree  which  stands  in  solitary 
grandeur.  It  is  not  as  when  you  walk  in  the  gothic 
gloom  of  forests,  or  beneath  the  shade  of  interlocked 
and  intertwining  limbs.  It  has  a  history  of  its  own, 
whispered  into  your  ear  by  its  waving  branches, 
and  made  emphatic  by  its  nodding  crown,  and  in 
the  winter  time  by  its  bare  and  outstretched  arms. 
When  you  commune  with  an  old  man,  you  are 
linked  by  a  living  tie  with  the  generations  lately 
passed  from  the  stage,  but  in  the  presence  of  an  old 
tree  to  departed  centuries,  and  you  invoke  the  spirit 
of  its  glory,  to  tell  you  what  it  knows  and  on  what 
scenes  its  shadows  may  have  fallen.  Tell  me,  thou 
aged  elm  ! — offspring  of  classic  soil,  and  nodding 
toward  yon  roof  where  those  old  men  sat  in  coun- 
cil, what  legend  should  be  engraven  on  thy  stately 


298 


UP    THE    HI  V^ 


shaft  which  stands  as  the  monument  of  that  green 
knoll  which  overlooks  the  river  ?  When  thou  wert 
young,  the  Indian  paddled  his  canoe  through  yonder 
waves  where  now  the  princely  steamboat  ploughs 
her  way  as  graceful  as  a  swan,  or  drew  his  barge 
among  the  trees,  the  '*  high  trees,"  which  the  red 
man  venerated,  "  on  which  the  eagles  built  their 
nests."  What  plumed  and  painted  chieftain  hither 
led  his  swarthy  love,  and  what  his  name  and  hers  ? 
Grey  Eagle  and  Morning  Glory  ?  Big  Thun- 
der, and  Curling  Smoke,  or  Cataract  and  Leap 
ing  Fawn  or  Prairie  Flower  ?  W^hat  said  the  King 
of  Matteawan  ?  And  tell  me,  old  tree,  in  what  battle 
of  the  elements  hast  thou  won  those  honourable  scars 
and  at  what  time  the  skies  grew  lurid  with  the 
bolt  which  pierced  thy  heart,  thou  vanguard  of  the 
forest,  and  champion  against  the  storm  !  Thou  hast 
wrestled  with  the  hurricane,  and  the  lightning'  has 
thrust  its  red  fingers  through  thy  locks,  and  all  the 
winds  have  many  a  time  come  down  the  mountains 
to  fight  thee,  and  snows  have  weighed  thee  down, 
yet  thou  art  glorious  in  old  age,  and  can  respond 
as  musically  as  ever  to  the  summer  winds,  and  the 
weary  wanderer  courts  the  shelter  of  thy  shade. 
Cans't  thou  tell  me  of   Hendrick  Hudson,  old  tree  ? 


UP    THE    RIVER.  299 

Aug.  15. — There  is  an  old  dog  belonging  to  my  neigh- 
bor Palmer,  who  comes  to  see  me  once  every  day  about 
the  hour  of  dinner,  with  the  expectation  of  being  in- 
vited to  accept  of  a  choice  mouthful.  He  comes 
with  the  attitude  of  a  suppliant  for  alms,  his  head 
down,  his  tail  streaming  along  the  ground,  his  mouth 
watering,  his  eyes  cast  down,  and  now  and  then 
furtively  lifted,  and  so  crawling,  almost  creeping  to- 
ward me,  as  if  waiting  for  a  word  of  positive  encour- 
agement, when  he  leaps  forward  with  alacrity,  or 
with  the  mere  utterance  of  the  words  "  go  home," 
he  turns  his  back  and  with  a  flea  in  his  ear,  to  say 
noting  of  those  on  the  rest  of  his  body,  goes  back  to 
the  old  farm-house.  If  the  family  are  at  dinner,  he 
sits  down  on  the  steps  and  thumps  with  his  tail.  To- 
day he  made  his  appearance  out  of  the  woods  cov- 
ered with  cobwebs,  and  as  the  sun  shone  on  them, 
he  looked  like  a  lion  tangled  in  the  meshes  of  a  sil- 
ver net.  During  the  dog-days,  I  have  no  meat  to 
give  him  except  it  be  now  and  then  a  small  piece 
of  lamb,  for  which  it  seems  hardly  judicious  to  culti- 
vate his  taste.  Although  he  is  very  hard  on  hogs, 
T  am  not  aware  that  Boos  is  addicted  to  sheep- 
stealing,  and  I  never  knew  a  dog  who  was,  accord- 
ing to  his  master's  knowledge.  No  matter  how 
many  innocents  have  been  throttled  over  night, 
the   man  who   loves  his  dog  would  consider  it  a  po- 


300  UP    THE    RIVER. 

sitive  injustice  and  slander  on  his  character  to  hint 
at  such  a  thing,  and  perhaps  would  even  come  to 
high  words  with  him  whose  fold  had  been  invaded. 
Sheep  are  a  grand  objection  to  keeping  a  dog,  and 
vice  versa.  Above  all  things  it  is  the  part  of  a 
Christian  man  to  be  at  peace  and  tranquility  with 
his  neighbour.  In  vain  the  air  is  choice  and  the 
daisies  bloom,  and  the  birds  sing,  and  all  things 
without  contribute  to  a  tranquil  bosom ;  a  little 
strife  will  turn  your  pleasant  garden  into  a  place  for 
thorns  and  brambles,  and  the  course  of  life  so  clear 
and  lucid,  now  frets  along  in  a  turbid  and  interrupted 
current.  Scratching  chickens  may  be  the  destruc- 
tion of  a  well  riveted  friendship,  and  a  nudging  pig 
who  opened  a  garden  gate,  once  caused  a  mighty 
faction  and  a  revolution  in  the  politics  of  a  whole 
country.  A  noble  dog  who  would  take  a  thief  by 
the  throat,  or  save  a  child  from  drowning,  is  too  apt 
to  have  a  weakness  for  mutton,  and  this  neutralizes 
all  his  virtues  and  makes  him  outlawed.  There 
are  no  shepherds  proper  in  this  country,  but  it  is 
hard  for  the  farmer  who  has  counted  his  white  sheep 
on  the  hill  side,  when  with  the  peeping  dawn  he 
takes  down  the  bars  and  goes  among  the  dewy  grass, 
to  find  a  score  of  them  dead  under  the  apple  trees, 
giving  their  last  bah  !  in  their  white  woollen  wind- 


UP    THE    HI  VER.  301 

ing-sheets.  In  vain  then  as  he  returns  sorrowful  to 
his  breakfast  to  tell  his  wife  of  this  deficit  in  the 
revenue,  does  he  cast  a  scrutinizing  look  at  Boos  or 
Neptune,  who  lies  innocently  wagging  his  tail,  and 
distilling  lucid  drops  before  his  master's  door,  and 
discovers  on  him  no  mark  of  blood.  He  states  his 
misgivings  to  the  proprietor  of  the  dog,  who  sympa- 
thises with  him  most  sincerely  in  his  loss,  but  who 
is  sure  that  his  suspicion  is  unfounded.  And  so  the 
matter  ends  until  an  explanation  is  heard  which  re- 
sults in  the  death  of  the  Newfoundland,  and  mutual 
bickerings  ensue  which  are  only  to  be  stopped  by 
the  arrival  of  a  new  tenant.  Were  it  not  for  this 
contingency,  I  should  be  very  happy  to  maintain  a 
pup. 

When  I  lived  on  the  sea-shore,  there  was  an  old 
doff  of  low  extraction,  a  member  of  the  extensive 
family  of  Rovers.  He  was  worthless,  though  not  in 
the  bad  sense  in  which  that  epithet  is  applied  to 
men.  He  was  of  no  value,  although  even  that  is 
perhaps  estimating  him  unfairly,  for  he  was  affec- 
tionate to  a  degree  w^hich  provoked  a  smile,  and  so 
ugly  as  to  win  upon  your  esteem.  He  would  jump 
up  and  put  his  clumsy  paws  all  covered  with  mud 
upon  your  knees,  and  the  more  you  put  him  away, 
so  much  the  more  would  he  leap  upon  yoii,  till  an- 


302  UP    THE    RIVER. 

grj,  yet  laughing,  you  succeeded  in  driving  him  off 
and  looked  for  the  broom.  When  my  breakfast  was 
brought  up  stairs,  he  was  punctual  to  the  moment, 
and  sat  outside  the  door  thumping  the  floor  with  his 
tail,  or  whining  with  piteous  inflections  to  be  let  in, 
until  dashing  down  the  napkin  in  a  rage,  I  admit- 
ted him  to  a  solitary  mouthful,  which  he  swallowed 
with  a  gulp,  and  with  a  smart  valedictory  kick  dis- 
missed the  leering  suppliant,  and  used  to  hear  him 
bungling  down  the  stair-case.  When  we  went  out 
in  the  bay,  this  old  dog  could  not  bear  to  be  left 
behind,  but  resolutely  swam  for  the  boat,  and  in 
spite  of  brandished  oars  would  scramble  in,  and 
standing  on  the  poop  shake  himself  as  if  he  had 
gone  where  the  crew  wished  him.  Sometimes  he 
would  follow  so  far,  that  he  was  dragged  in  out  of 
pity  ;  at  other  times  when  we  were  too  far  off,  he 
would  stand  on  the  bank  filling  the  air  with  lamen- 
tations, and  imploring  us  to  come  back  and  take  him 
*  in.  If  his  request  were  not  complied  with,  he  would 
take  a  short  cut,  two  miles,  to  head  the  boat,  and 
when  we  reached  the  narrow  inlet,  there  he  stood, 
when  some  one  of  the  party  would  usually  insist  that 
he  should  be  permitted  to  embark.  Patting  on  the 
head,  or  the  common-place  approval  of  "  good  dog  ! 
— good  dog  !"  used  to  fill  him  with  the  liveliest  sen- 


UP    THE    RIVER.  303 

timents  of  satisfaction.  But  I  cannot  say  after  all 
that  he  was  of  no  value.  One  evening  the  person 
to  vi'hom  he  belonged,  sent  a  little  boy  in  his  com- 
pany to  the  village  to  buy  a  bottle  of  brandy  for 
external  application.  On  his  return,  a  coloured 
gentleman  who  had  a  small  current  of  Indian  blood 
in  his  veins,  who  was  distinguished  for  his  know- 
ledge of  roots,  who  took  his  medical  degree  in  the 
college  of  Nature,  and  was  known  by  the  title  of 
Doctor  January,  perceived  the  neck  of  the  bottle 
in  the  basket,  and  highly  appreciating  the  medical 
qualities  of  the  fluid,  attempted  to  possess  himself 
of  the  same,  without  regard  to  the  outcries  of  the 
little  boy.  The  dog  who  was  three  or  four  hundred 
yards  ahead  proceeding  homeward  on  a  jog  trot, 
forthwith  returned  and  bit  the  leg  of  the  doctor  so 
shockingly,  that  he  was  laid  on  his  back  for  a  month. 
Lady  R.  possessed  an  Italian  greyhound,  the 
weest  of  all  wee  things.  He  was  what  we  would 
imagine  a  dog  to  be  after  swimming  across  the  Sty- 
gian pool  into  the  spirit-land  of  the  canine  species, 
if  dogs  have  souls,  and  they  say  that  pet  dogs  have. 
He  was  spirituel  in  the  extreme,  his  height  almost 
the  same  as  that  of  a  young  puppy,  his  legs  no  thicker 
than  a  pipe-stem,  his  nose  sharpened  to  the  point 
of  a  cambric  needle,  and  oh  !  his  amblings,  his  an- 


\ 


304  UP    THE    RIVER. 

tics,  his  actions — they  were  like  those  of  the  shadow 
of  a  Lilliputian  deer.  His  name — but  I  forget — her 
name  was  Jenny  Lind.  Every  morning  after  break 
fast,  when  the  fowls  came  to  the  hard-rolled,  peb- 
bled walk  before  the  door  for  crumbs  of  bread,  she 
would  approach  and  retreat,  crouch  down  and  cur- 
vet about  in  a  circle,  and  make  her  laughable  at- 
tacks, till  frightened  back  by  the  flapping  wings 
and  fierce  onset  of  a  stout  and  motherly  duck.  One 
night  the  little  dog,  in  consequence  of  a  too  luxu- 
rious diet,  fell  into  convulsions,  and  surrounded  by 
a  tearful  household,  expired  in  her  master's  arms 
before  the  break  of  day.  Poor  Jenny  Lind  !  I  was 
acquainted  with  a  man  who  owned  a  Scotch  terrier 
of  exceeding  intelligence.  His  master  went  to  the 
city  every  morning  and  returned  at  night.  As  soon 
as  the  car-bell  rang  and  announced  the  return  of 
the  train,  he  started  for  the  depot  in  a  slow  and  or- 
derly trot,  where  he  took  his  place  on  the  platform, 
and  as  the  cars  severally  passed  by,  he  poked  his 
nose  into  one  and  another,  glancing  over  the  passen- 
gers, until  he  perceived  his  master,  whom  he  wel- 
comed with  an  extravagant  joy.  This  little  dog 
understood  the  use  of  language,  although  he  had 
never  been  trained  to  letters  in  an  artificial  way  as 
they  bring  up  a  learned  pig'  or  a  learned  goat.     His 


UP    THE    RIVER 


305 


master  shrewdly  suspected  that  he  knew  every- 
thing which  was  said,  and  he  was  confirmed  in  his 
opinion  in  this  manner.  One  day  in  winter,  the  fire 
gomg  out,  he  said  to  him  jocosely,  "  Ponto,  take 
that  basket  and  go  into  the  yard  and  pick  up  a  few 
chips."  Ponto  took  the  basket,  went  to  the  wood- 
pile, took  up  the  chips  in  his  mouth,  and  brought 
them  in.  Ponto  was  death  on  rats,  and  would  de- 
spatch a  score  of  them  in  an  incredibly  short  time, 
but  he  nearly  lost  his  life  in  an  unlucky,  useless, 
and  inglorious  tussle  with  a  pole-cat.  Not  suspect- 
ing its  peculiar  means  of  defence,  he  flew  at  it,  and 
received  in  his  face  and  eyes  the  full  out-squirt  of 
its  pungent  and  pestilential  indignation.  I  neve 
saw  an  animal  in  such  agony  in  my  life.  He  groan- 
ed, he  squealed,  he  choked,  he  squirmed,  he  twisted, 
he  rolled  on  the  grass,  he  bit  the  dust,  he  rubbed  his 
eyes,  and  at  last  plunged  headlong  into  a  pond  where 
he  liked  to  have  been  drowned.  This  was  his  first 
lesson  in  Natural  History. 


XVI. 
TO  RICHARD    HAYWARDE. 

Up  the  River,  September. 


N  the  banks  of  the 
noble  Hudson,  be- 
fore it  becomes  ab- 
breviated in  width, 
high  up,  upon  a 
grassy  slope,  thou, 
Haywarde,  enam- 
oured of  the  coun- 
try, not  about  to 
erect  a  modest  man- 
sion, not  castella- 
ted, although  in  one 
sense  a  castle  ;  the 
stronghold  of  hospi- 
tality and  domestic 
virtues,  andaccord- 
mg  to  that  rural  taste  which  distinguishes  the  Hay- 


UP    THE    RIVER.  397 

wardes  to  be  entitled  Chestnut  Cottage.  Beneath 
the  spreading  branches  of  that  ancient  and  vigor- 
ous tree  which  gives  a  name  to  your  place,  I  imag- 
ine the  pleasure  which  is  in  store  autumnally  for 
the  youthful  Richard  and  his  co-mates,  as  soon  as 
the  burrs  have  become  large,  and  they  have  entered 
in  earnest  on  the  collection  of  that  fascinating  nut. 
To  go  a-chestnutting  is  associated  in  my  own  mind 
with  more  pleasing  juvenile  reminiscences  than  to 
go  a-fishing.  When  the  days  began  to  grow  cool  in 
autumn,  and  the  first  frost  had  whitened  the  earth, 
and  cracked  open  the  prickly  enclosures,  and  ripened 
the  nutty  crops,  we  used  to  go  forth  with  little  bas- 
kets, and  having  arrived  at  some  "  sweet  hollow" 
or  amphitheatre  in  the  woods,  we  stood  upon  the 
green  sward  looking  up  at  the  rounded  crowns  of  the 
chestnut-trees  and  at  the  nuts  ready  to  burst  with 
plumpness  out  of  their  fortifications,  some  while  as 
milk,  others  mottled,  others  of  a  chocolate  colour, 
and  the  rest  like  burnished  mahogany,  with  a  little 
downy  tuft  at  the  point  of  the  shell.  To  hunt  among 
the  leaves  for  the  fallen  nuts,  and  to  throw  them 
one  by  one  with  a  rattling  sound  into  the  baskets, 
counting  their  number  as  with  a  cry  of  delight  they 
were  found,  was  the  first  labour.  When  this  harvest 
was  pretty  well  gleaned,  the  more  active  and  adven- 


308  UP    THE    RIVER. 

turous  bo}'',  throwing  his  coat  away,  taking  off 
his  shoes  and  hat,  and  hugging  and  clasping 
the  mighty  trunk,  would  begin  gradually  to  as- 
cend, assisted  in  the  rear  by  juvenile  arms,  and 
finally  standing  as  if  the  platform  were  secure  upon 
a  multitude  of  little  palms  overlapped,  and  taking 
breath  before  making  a  resolute  effort  to  reach  the 
branching  limbs  where  the  grey  squirrel's  nest  was 
situate.  And  "  don't  you  remember"  how  others  would 
take  out  their  jacknives  (those  four-bladed  jacknives, 
last  year's  Christmas  presents  from  Grandpa  or 
Aunty,)  and  hack  down  the  long,  lithe  saplings,  with 
which  to  thrash  the  superincumbent  limbs,  and 
what  a  rattling,  nutty  shower  would  ensue  ?  But  it 
required  a  coy  and  dexterous  handling  to  get  the 
meat  from  the  well-protected  and  nutty  porcupines. 
The  little  girls  wore  gloves  and  the  boys  fingered 
the  burrs  tightly  with  sharp  spikes,  and  mashed 
them  between  two  stones,  leaving  at  last  an  im- 
mense pile  on  the  ground  and  bearing  away  with 
joy  the  well-filled  baskets — recompense  of  a  day's 
hard  work. 

Is  not  a  fruit  basket  filled  with  boiled  chestnuts, 
which  have  been  flavoured  with  a  little  salt,  a  very 
pleasant  addition  to  the  dessert  ?  But  if  a  large 
stock   has   been  laid  in,  put  them  in  bags  and  liang 


UP    THE     RIVER.  309 

them  up  to  be  smoked  and  cured  in  the  chimney 
corner,  and  in  the  middle  of  winter,  you  will  find 
the  nuts,  if  properly  dried  and  not  too  hard,  exceed- 
ingly sweet  and  toothsome  ?  Your  children  will 
not  be  obliged  to  roam  into  the  woods  to  which  ex- 
cursion a  part  of  the  pleasure  of  chestnutting  is 
due,  but  will  experience  some  of  the  sport  in  days 
to  come  at  Chestnut  Cottage. 

Richard,  on  some  accounts,  I  really  regret  that 
you  intend  to  camp  among  the  fields.  -  I  shall  pre- 
sently have  no  friends  in  town.  On  a  winter  even- 
ing when  the  ground  was  covered  with  snows,  and 
the  cold  was  bitter,  I  would  sometimes  wander  up 
Broadway  a  long  distance,  then  turn  to  the  right, 
pass  the  Italian  Opera  House  with  its  row  of  gas 
lights  in  front,  and  when  before  a  house  whose 
threshold  is  approachable  by  a  single  step,  and  just 
opposite  the  dial  of  St.  Mark's  Church,  pull  a  bell 
heartily,  and  ask  if  Mr.  Haywarde  were  at  home  ; — 
a  question  which  in  nine  cases  out  of  ten  was  an- 
swered in  the  affirmative  by  the  cheerful  maidser- 
vant, except  that  now  and  then  she  would  say  that 
Mr.  Haywarde  had  gone  to  the  club.  When  such 
was  the  case,  I  would  sorrowfully  depart,  being  a 
member  of  no  club,  but  one  o*  an  Eclectic  Society 
composed  of  men  in   every  honest  and   honourable; 


310  UP    THE    RIVER. 

calling,  who  sometimes  meet  together  to  pass  a  few 
literary  hours  snatched  from  the  toils  of  life,  depre- 
dated and  distinguished  by  their  pleasantness  from 
common  time.  Oh,  jocund  seasons  ! — bright  salu- 
brious hours,  enjoyed  among  the  poets,  and  the  Al- 
dine  bards,  refreshed  with  memories  of  Shakspere 
and  rare  Ben  Jonson,  and  all  the  wits  of  England 
who  have  ever  lived  ; — sparkling  with  anecdote, 
with  apposite  allusion,  and  with  suggestive  fancies  ; 
sometimes,  it  is  true,  extending  toward  the  midnight, 
but  ever  bedewed  wdth  a  freshness  and  a  sweetness 
like  that  which  is  sprinkled  on  the  flowers  of  a  May 
day  morning,  or  early  June. 

But  I  shall  regret  the  evacuation  of  that  town 
house,  and  especially  of  that  choice  library,  although 
the  books  may  be  readily  transported  to  another 
place.  It  was  an  exceedingly  snug  room,  with  its 
oaken  cases,  and  oak  pannellings,  shields,  spears, 
and  war-like  trophies  disposed  on  the  walls,  but 
above  all,  its  selection  of  books  was  choice  and  cu- 
rious, some  of  them  very  antique,  whose  dupli- 
cates cannot  be  found.  I  can  scarcely  imagine  how 
with  your  pursuits,  in  this  part  of  the  world,  you 
managed  to  pick  up  such  rare  and  costly  treasures. 
There  is  that  first  edition  of  Sterne's  works  in  a 
number  of  little  volumes,  clear  type,  bearing  on  the 


UPTHERIVER.  311 

blank  page,  in  ink  somewhat  pale,  the  well-known 
chirography  and  undoubted  signature  of  Laurence 
Sterne.  There  were  scores  of  clearly  printed  folios 
full  of  those  pithy  and  quaint  sayings  for  which  you 
may  look  in  any  book  having  the  year  16 —  on  its 
title-page,  besides  many  nick  nacks  of  literature 
which  I  may  no  doubt  see  again  at  Chestnut  Cottage. 
But  there  was  something  in  the  length  and  breadth 
of  that  little  study  which  exactly  pleased  the  eye  by 
its  harmonious  proportions,  and  with  the  com- 
fortable arm-chair  placed  in  one  corner,  when  the 
gas  shed  down  a  cheerful  blaze,  it  was  a  welcome 
spot  for  a  literary  man  to  pass  an  hour  in,  and  it 
seems  a  pity  that  it  should  be  desecrated,  or  that 
any  of  its  fixtures  should  be  removed.  But  a  change 
of  residence  is  nothing  uncommon  in  our  part  of  the 
world.  The  benefits  which  we  derive  from  our  civil 
institutions  sometimes,  it  must  be  confessed,  make 
a  fearful  inroad  on  things  merely  sentimental.  An 
hereditary  possession,  whether  of  blooming  acres, 
house  and  fixtures,  silver  goblets,  or  what  not,  which 
remain  unmoved  and  irremovable,  has  somehow  a 
refining  influence  on  its  owner,  and  brings  a  fine 
aroma  to  the  feelings  inappreciable  by  the  vulgar 
sense.  All  places  and  things  become  religiously 
consecrated  by  the  occupation  and  use,  and  are  soon 


312  UP    THE    RIVER- 

associated  with  the  dearest  memories.  But  this 
deeply .  planted  sentiment  of  our  natures,  we  arc 
compelled  to  violate.  We  make  a  stand  on  hallow- 
ed churches,  but  our  homes  are  temporary,  and  our 
household  gods  are  destined  to  be  removed.  Oh, 
that  it  might  be  otherwise,  if  it  could  be. for  the  com- 
mon weal,  and  that  we' might  join  in  that  aspiration 
of  Pope's  fresh  and  early  muse  : — 

'  Happy  the  man  whose  wish  and  care 
A  few  paternal  acres  bound, 
Content  to  breathe  his  native  air, 
On  his  own  ground.' 

One  of  the  most  melancholy  sights  which  I  ever 
beheld  was  what  was  called  a  Great  Vendue.  It 
was  the  selling  out  of  all  the  goods  and  chattels 
which  attached  to  an  old  homestead.  A  few 
months  before,  the  gray-haired  sire  walked  stout 
fresh  and  vigourous  in  his  eightieth  year,  full  of 
pleasantry,  with  all  the  graces  of  the  old  school,  de- 
lighted as  much  as  ever  with  crops  and  farming  and 
sleek  cattle.  Then  came  a  funeral  procession  from 
the  hall  of  the  mansion,  winding  about  among  the  oaks, 
and  with  many  tears,  and  with  much  respect,  this 
old  occupant  of  the  soil  was  softly  let  down  into  the 
sepulchre  of  his  fathers. 

'  Linquenda  tellus  et  domus  et  placens 
Uxor  neque  harum  quas  colis  arborum 
Te  praeter  invisas  cupressos 
Ulla  brevem  dominum  sequetur. 


UP    THE    RIVER.  31;^ 

I  can  never  tire  of  repeating  this  sentiment  of  the 
poet  Horace,  an  author  which  this  old  man  had  at 
his  fingers'  ends,  and  while  he  lay  on  the  hard  sofa 
in  the  hall,  reading  the  odes  on  a  summer's  day, 
quoting  those  sentiments  which  apply  to  common 
life,  expressed  by  a  few  compact  words  in  majestic 
Latin,  he  would  say  with  a  smile  in  allusion  to  his 
latter  end,  that  he  was  "  only  waiting  for  the  car- 
riage." Horace  and  Livy  he  used  to  read  through 
and  through  every  year,  and  the  Bucolics  of  Virgil, 
and  he  would  laughingly  say  that  the  perusal  was 
an  ever  fresh  delight,  because  the  decay  of  his  me- 
mory was  so  great  that  it  was  every  time  like  anew 
story.  But  the  Bible  was  his  Book  of  Books,  of 
which,  although  he  forgot  nothing,  he  always  found 
some  new  direction  given  to  thought  in  the  expan- 
sion of  its  immutable  and  glorious  principles. 

But  he  died  and  was  buried  by  his  kindred,  and 
the  place  must  needs  be  sold  and  pass  into  the  pos- 
session of  strangers  who  would  demolish  the  house 
and  set  no  value  on  a  single  tree,  except  for  the  sake 
of  its  shadow.  The  law  of  change,  however,  arrest- 
ed for  a  little  by  arbitrary  enactment,  must  alas  !  pre- 
vail in  the  end,  and  with  a  sigh  we  acknowledge 
that  it  is  well  that  it  should  be  so.  One  day  I  passed 
by,   (it   was   a    sunshiny  morning,)  and   observed  an 


314  UP    THE    RIVER. 

unusual  bustle.  All  kinds  of  carriages  were  on  the 
ground,  and  the  horses  who  were  tied  to  the  posts 
and  trees  at  every  available  spot  wiiere  there  was 
any  shade,  were  stamping  with  their  hoofs  round 
holes  in  the  grass,  and  there  was  a  great  crowd  as- 
sembled about  the  porch,  and  wandering  with  free 
license  through  the  chambers  of  the  house,  among 
the  grounds  and  through  the  garden,  picking  fruits,' 
making  themselves  at  home,  and  satisfying  their  cu- 
riosity by  a  sight  of  mere  ordinary  things  which  had 
heretofore  been  hidden  from  view.  In  the  midst  of 
the  confusion  could  be  heard  the  hammer  of  the 
auctioneer,  and  the  gay  hilarious  laugh  in  answer 
to  his  appeal  to  their  risibilities,  because  the  auc- 
tioneer usually  professes  to  be  a  wit.  There  he 
stood  in  the  most  unfeeling  manner,  knocking  down 
to  the  highest  bidder  old  pieces  of  furniture  now 
out  of  fashion,  tables  with  lion-like  claws,  just  like 
so  much  lumber.  There  was  a  samp-mortar,  used 
by  the  Indians  who  pre-occupied  the  spot  before 
windmills  and  water-w^heels  were  heard  of  on  this 
continent.  There  was  the  substantial  mahogany 
cradle  in  which  so  many  members  of  the  family  had 
been  rocked,  as  good  as  ever.  I  once  saw  a  man 
bowed  down  with  age,  look  down  upon  the  roofed 
nestling  place,   where  as  it   seemed  but  yesterday 


UP    THE    RIVER.  315 

his  infantine  face  was  pillowed,  and  he  marked 
where  the  rocker  had  been  worn  away  by  the  touch- 
ing foot  of  one  whose  tenderness  was  not  yet  forgot- 
ten. There  was  the  solid,  sound,  round,  substantial 
mahogany,  which  had  so  often  groaned  with  dainties, 
around  which  so  many  delightful  family  gatherings 
had  been  held  on  many  a  Christmas  holiday.  "  How 
muchumoffer'd,  how  muchumoffer'd  ? — going,  going, 
going — an  half  do  I  hear  ? — anaf — naf — naf — naf — 
naf — naf — naf — naf — naf — nafnaf — nafnaf — nafnaf 
speak  quick  and  be  done — bang. — Cash  takes  it. — 
And  here,  gentlemen,  is  a  globe  of  the  United  States." 
Ah,  how  discordant  the  choral  laugh,  and  the  con- 
tinual tramping  of  the  multitude,  so  different  from 
the  pattering  footsteps  which  used  to  be  heard  on 
the  stair  cases  and  in  the  hall.  By  night-fall  the 
work  was  done,  the  accounts  were  cast  up,  the 
house  was  dismantled  of  its  furniture,  and  the  com- 
pany went  home. 

And  much  more  varied  and  melancholy,  Haywarde, 
are  the  adventures  and  destiny  of  choice  books. 
The  treasures  of  the  Vatican  and  Bodleian  libraries 
remain,  and  will  remain,  it  may  be  for  ages  on  the 
foundation  which  was  intended  to  be  eternal,  until 
the  fires  of  Vandalism  or  Revolution  sweep  them 
away  like  those  of  the  Alexandrian.     But  what  be- 


316  UP    THE    RIVER. 

comes  of  the  private  collections,  small  libraries  like 
yours,  compacted  with  so  much  pains,  and  guarded 
with  so  much  affection  ?  In  a  few  years  the  books 
are  scattered  abroad,  and  one  of  them  is  picked  up 
at  a  night  auction-sale  under  the  gas  lamps,  and 
others  which  whilome  used  to  stand  in  most  re- 
spectable company  among  the  Beaumonts  and 
Fletchers  in  some  rosewood  case,  are  wistfully  gazed 
at  on  a  street-corner  by  the  sauntering  scrutiniz- 
ing collector,  or  antiquary,  mixed  up  with  Dilworth's 
spelling  books,  elegant  extracts  of  prose  and  poetry, 
and  the  stray  odd  volumes  torn  away  from  costly 
sets,  and  the  emptying  of  trunks  in  the  garret.  Long 
may  it  be  before  the  books  in  the  Hayward  collec- 
tion be  thus  scattered,  but  although  removed  from 
their  snug  delightful  depository  in  the  city,  may  they 
find  an  equally  pleasant,  but  longer  and  securer 
resting  place  in  Chestnut  Cottage,  there  to  be 
taken  down  and  delicately  handled  by  the  friends 
who  are  seated  in  social  converse,  to  be  perused 
with  dulcet  gusto,  on  the  piazza  of  that  rising  house 
which  is  to  overlook  the  river. 

The  River  ! — It  is  a  great  privilege,  every  year 
more  dearly  purchased,  to  have  a  house  not  exactly 
out  of  the  world,  upon  some  stream  of  flowing  wa- 
ter.    From  experience   I    speak,    haA^ng  for    three 


UPTHERIVER.  317 

years  lived  within  a  stone's  throw  of  the  spot  where 
the  tide  rolled  up  on  snow-white  sands  and  pebbles, 
and  almost  on  any  sultry  night  could  I  walk  into 
the  phosphorescent  wave  and  return  all  dripping  to 
a  couch  visited  by  sleep  sweet  and  sound  and  re- 
freshing until  the  birds  began  to  sing  at  early  day, 
and  there  too,  from  time  to  time,  enjoyed  the  charm- 
ing prospects  from  the  Piazzas  of  Rhineland,  Eg- 
lantina,  Bella  Vista,  Ward's  Promontory,  Thursto- 
nia,  Kalmia  abounding  with  laurels,  and  Hawthorn- 
den.  And  oh,  the  rides  about  that  rolling  landscape, 
winding  about  promontories  whose  base  was  laved 
by  the  clear  blue  waters  of  the  Long  Island  Sound, 
those  beautiful  coves  sweeping  around  in  a  circle 
like  the  Bay  of  Naples  ! — and  the  excursions  into 
the  broad  deep  through  that  narrow  inlet  ! — the 
black-fishing  on  the  rocks,  the  feasting  and  jocosity 
on   the    mainshore,   or  the  embowered  islets  ! 

Some  would  prefer  a  house  upon  the  broad  ocean, 
but  there  are  few  available  places  to  be  had  along 
the  coast  where  in  addition  to  a  sight  of  the  "  Far 
Sounding,"  you  have  the  advantage  of  high  banks, 
green  fields,  and  of  a  pleasant  landscape.  There  is 
indeed  nothing  more  hilarious  and  inspiriting  than 
the  sea  itself,  emblem  of  the  Infinite  ;  to  feel  in  hot 
summer  gushing  over  your  brow  the  ever  pure  and 


318  UP    THE    RIVER. 

fresh  breeze  which  comes  up  from  its  bosom,  saying 
with  the  Greek  poet,  avpo,  ■roj'rtas  avpu,  and  with 
Plinius  in  his  delight,  O,  mare  et  tellus  !  verum 
atque  secretum,  (xovattov — quam  multa  invenitis  ! — 
quam  multa  dictatis ; — to  walk  bare-footed  on  the 
white  beach,  on  the  very  edge  of  the  retreating  wave, 
and  feel  the  sands  sucked  away  beneath  your  toes, 
yea,  to  dash  with  a  frantic  joy  into  the  midst  of  the 
breakers,  now  floating  like  a  surf-duck  buoyant 
above  them,  struggling  for  a  moment  with  the  un- 
dertow, and  dragged  seaward,  then  cast  like  a  piece 
of  wreck-wood  on  the  shore  ; — to  walk  there  silent 
and  thoughtful,  murmuring  '  there  go  the  ships, 
there  goes  the  leviathan,'  and  ever  to  hearken  to 
the  beating  of  that  oldest  and  mightiest  pulse  which 
has  throbbed  since  the  world  began.  Oh,  the 
sea  is  beyond  the  apostrophe  of  any  poet  to  picture 
its  sublimity.  It  has  a  life,  and  that  the  longest  ;  a 
heart,  and  that  the  boldest  ;  a  voice,  and  that  the 
most  audible  ;  a  calm  which  is  indescribable,  but  a 
fury  which  is  beyond  control.  And  when  I  look 
upon  the  hoary  mane  which  lies  across  its  back  like 
the  mane  of  an  old  lion,  the  froth  which  gathers  on 
it  from  lashing  the  rocks,  and  hearken  to  the  sound 
of  its  bowlings,  or  to  the  music  of  its  murmurs  in 
the  rosy  ear  of  the  conch  shells  which  lie  along  the 


U  P    THE    RIVER.  3I9 

shore,  it  appears  like  some  masterful  giant,  the 
greatest  and  most  venerable  in  the  physic  world. 
The  sons  of  men,  and  the  trees  of  the  forest  do  not 
retain  their  individuality,  but  are  perpetuated  by 
successive  generations.  It  is  a  great  thing  to  recog- 
nize in  those  who  live,  the  name  and  traits  of  other 
men  who  in  days  past  were  deemed  heroic,  or  to  sit 
beneath  the  shadow  of  a  tree  whose  roots  were 
stricken  in  centuries  gone  by.  But  the  sea  is  the 
same  sea  which  began  to  roll  at  the  prime  creation 
when  God  separated  the  elements,  into  which  Xerxes 
cast  his  shackles,  which  Canute  rebuked,  and  upon 
whose  billows  Jesus  walked,  and  which  now 
throws  its  great  Briarean  arms  to  the  ends  of  the 
world,  enwrapping  continents  and  girdling  the 
sunny  isles  in  its  embrace  ; — never  changing, 
never  corrupting,  because  it  contains  within  it  the 
very  principle  of  preservation — the  salt  of  the  earth. 
There  is  great  food  for  reflection  upon  its  brink 
There  the  thoughtful  may  muse  solitary,  and  the 
religious  lifts  up  his  heart  to  God. 

But  to  recur  to  what  I  was  saying.  When  you 
wish  to  have  a  house  where  you  may  live  the  year 
round,  you  do  well  to  build  it  by  the  river  rather 
than  by  the  sea.  The  latter  accords  not  so  well 
with  social  feelings,  for  there  is  a  dreariness  as  well 


320  UP    THE    mvER. 

as  majesty  in   a  vast    expanse  of  waters,  where  you 
can  see  no  land  beyond,  and  where  your  thoughts 
are  outward,  and  onward,  and  far  away.      You  must 
have    some  natural  barriers  which  will  hem  you  in, 
and  make  your  mind  return  whence  it  set  out,  and 
your   home    snug.     The  sea  does  not  limit  you  ; — 
because  it  appears  to  have  no  limits.     The  Switzer 
loves  his  native  cot  so  much,  not  because  the  moun- 
tains tower  beyond  his  sight   and  are  lost  in  clouds, 
but  because  their  sloping  bases  so  wind  about  it,   as 
to  form  pleasant  vallies  and  sequestered  nooks  and 
natural   walls  the   most   impregnable   to   guard   his 
little  paradise  on  earth.     Perhaps  the  peasant  has  not 
that  poetic    feeling   which    tempts   the  traveller  to 
where  the  avalanche  threatens  and  the  chamois  leaps 
from  cliffs  to  ice  clad  cliff,    and  Mont  Blanc    "  mo- 
narch of  mountains,"   upheaves   the  skies.      His  af- 
fection   arises  from  a  different  principle.     His  little 
cot  is  placed  in  a  valley  W'hich  catches  all  the  sun- 
beams, where  he  is  within  sight  of  grandeur  but  sur- 
rounded with   beauty,    where   the  avalanche  cannot 
hurt  him,  but  he  hears  the  sound  of  the  cascade  and 
cataract,    and    with  clear   resilience  the   echoes   of 
the   Ranz  des  Vachs.     There   can  he  walk  securely 
with  those  he  loves,  and  on  being  removed   thence, 


UP    THE     RIVER.  321 

he  pines  away  and  dies  with  a  dreadful  sinking  and 
sickness  of  the  heart. 

Therefore  I  think  that  the  silver  stream  of  a  river 
is  a  better  boundary  for  your  habitation,  than  the 
illimitable  sea,  because  although  occasionally  you 
may  wish  to  look  upon  the  grandeur,  you  would  not 
always  bear  the  fury  of  the  storm.  Having  tender 
Haywardes,  you  must  be  where  the  winter  winds 
will  not  visit  you  too  bleakly  ;  you  must  woo  the 
amenities  of  the  landscape,  live  on  the  edge  of  the 
waves,  not  breakers,  upon  whose  glassy  surface  you 
may  see  the  trees  inverted,  the  image  of  the  rose 
repeated  in  the  clear  cold  depths,  the  stars  twink- 
ling by  night  in  a  mock  firmament,  and  where  i1 
may  be  a  matter  of  marvel  to  your  little  boys  how 
Chestnut  Cottage,  far  off  as  it  is,  should  be  turned 
upside  down,  as  if  it  stood  on  the  very  brink  of  the 
water. 

When  your  house,  though  not  grand  or  towering, 
not  marked  with  wooden  and  ambitious  colonnades 
of  Ionian  or  Corinthian  columns  ;  not  aping  styles 
of  architecture  which  ill  comport  with  its  size  or  it« 
location,  but  with  a  harmony  which  costs  no  money, 
although  it  can  only  be  had  as  the  result  of  taste 
improved  by  study  and  chastised  by  art  ;  in  which 
length  shall  correspond  with  breadth,  and  both  with 


322  UPTHERIVER. 

heiffht,  and    all   details  with   the  material  of  which 
the  structure  is  builded,  so  that  lightness  or  massive 
strength   may  have    reference    and   relation   to  sur- 
rounding things,   and  colour   itself  may  be  made  to 
blend   pleasantly  with    adjoining  colours,  but  above 
all,  that  the  house  may  be  consonant  to  the  charac- 
ter of  the  owner,   to  the   design    and   purposes    for 
which  it  has  been  built,  and  be  an  example  of  domes- 
tic architecture  to  the  whole   docile  neighbourhood, 
and  not  a  mere  challenge  to  the  vulgar  who  happen 
to  be  possessed  of  wealth  : — when,  I  say,  the  whole 
has  been   reared,  and  the  carpenters  have  removed 
their  tools,  and  the  painters  have   gone    away,    and 
the  smell  of  the  paint  has  evaporated,  it  is  expected 
by  your  friends  that  you  fling  open  the  folding  doors, 
light  up  the  wax  candles,  and  give  an  old  fashioned 
"  house  warming,"  do  you  hear?     J   would    sooner 
be  present  than  to  have  a  ticket  to  the  Inauguration 
of    the    Crystal    Palace.      You   will    not   live   in    a 
glass   house,   which  is  w  ell    enough,    as   you  some- 
times write  satires,   but  in  a  much  more  substantial 
residence,  let  us  hope,  because  the  ground  it  stands 
on  is  your  own.     There  is  no  sentiment  in  dwelling 
in    a  hired  tenement,    even  if  it  blaze  with  a  facti- 
tious splendour.     For  though  the  roof  protects  you, 
what  protects  the  roof  ?     I  wish  to  see  what  start 


UP    THE    RIVER.  303 

you  will  make,  and  with  what  kind  of  a  grace  you 
are  going  to  dispense  hospitality  on  your  own  ground 
when  relieved  from  every  vestige  and  disability  of 
the  feudal  system.  Upon  my  word  I  would  not 
wish  to  own  a  decent,  comfortable  house,  and  live 
in  it  after  the  fashion  of  some  people,  in  the  same 
torpid  security  with  which  a  snail  inhabits  its  shell. 
For  they  see  nobody,  or  think  that  some  annual, 
heartless,  vapid,  showy  supper,  will  be  a  set  off  for 
the  genial,  easy,  intercourse  which  should  be  a  part 
of  every  day,  or  hour.  I  go  in  heartily  and  devoutly 
for  the  sedulous  cultivation  of  the  social  element  in 
every  man's  character.  By  neglect  or  solitude,  a 
taste  for  that  happiness  which  it  confers  will  fast 
decay,  and  general  shyness  and  apathy  ensue.  It 
is  pleasant  to  see  people  with  some  little  life  in  them, 
and  who  are  ready  to  welcome  the  occasion  with  an 
alacrity  and  lighting  up  of  the  countenance,  and 
who  have  some  pressure  in  the  grasp,  if  it  be  not  so 
strong  as  to  crush  the  knuckles.  And  although 
there  are  individuals  whom  seclusion  is  befitting, 
as  the  State  prisoner  in  his  cell,  the  sick  man  in  his 
chamber,  the  student  in  his  closet,  or  the  afflicted 
in  his  retirement,  it  is  essential  to  the  proper  en- 
joyment of  life  while  it  lasts,  and  to  the  healthy 
constitution   of  the  general  social  body,   that  there 


324  UP    THE    IIIVER. 

should  be  a  frequent  congress  of  its  members.  There 
is  no  such  thing  as  solitude  except  by  contrast ; — I 
mean  that  there  is  no  such  thing  as  natural  and 
healthful  privacy.  What  says  the  Great  Zimmer- 
man, whose  name  is  indissolubly  connected  with  a 
theme  of  which  he  has  treated  so  charmingly.  *'  The 
pleasures  of  society,  though  they  may  be  attended 
with  unhappy  effect  and  pernicious  consequences  to 
men  of  weak  heads  and  corrupted  hearts,  who  only 
follow  them  for  the  purpose  of  indulging  the  follies 
and  gratifying  the  vices  to  which  they  have  given 
birth,  are  yet  capable  of  affording  to  the  wise  and 
virtuous,  a  high,  rational,  sublime  and  satisfactory 
enjoyment.  The  world  is  the  only  theatre  upon 
which  great  and  noble  actions  can  be  performed,  or 
the  heights  of  moral  and  intellectual  excellence  use- 
fully attained  ;"  and  he  says  toward  the  conclusion 
of  his  most  excellent  work  that  the  chief  design  of 
it  is  "  to  exhibit  the  necessity  of  combining  the  uses 
of  solitude  w'ith  those  of  society,  to  show  in  the 
strongest  light  the  advantages  they  may  mutually 
derive  from  each  other,  to  convince  mankind  of 
the  danger  of  running  into  either  extreme  ;  to  teach 
the  advocate  of  uninterrupted  society  how  highly 
all  the  social  virtues  may  be  improved,  and  its  vices 
easily  abandoned  by  habits  of  solitary  abstraction  ; 


UP    THE    RIVER.  325 

and  the  advocate  for  continual  solitude  how  much 
that  indocility  and  arrogance  of  character,  which  is 
contracted  by  a  total  absence  from  the  world,  may 
be  corrected  by  the  urbanity  of  society."  These 
are  the  very  ideas  which  I  would  advocate,  and 
which  apply  peculiarly  to  the  case  of  every  country 
gentleman.  It  is  pitiful  to  see  so  many  delightful 
rural  neighbourhoods  where  people  of  equal,  or 
nearly  equal  quality,  live  near  together,  who  have 
abandoned  themselves  to  petty  feelings  and  the  ad- 
justment of  their  several  shades  of  respectability 
instead  of  forgetting  all  in  a  constant  and  whole- 
souled  hospitality.  A  partial  blending  even  with 
imperfect  sympathies,  would  be  better  than  nothing, 
while  in  seclusion  and  aversion  and  a  dull  apathy, 
are  hatched  as  in  some  secret  favourable  spot,  the 
eggs  of  envy,  malice,  detraction  and  uncharitable- 
ness. 

Because,  therefore,  one  lives  in  the  country,  that 
is  not  to  say  that  thereafter  he  must  live  alone.  One 
great  duty  of  the  cultivated  man,  is  to  try  by  his 
example  to  help  the  progress  of  ideas  like  the  above 
among  the  rural  population  who  give  up  too  much 
time  to  work,  live  too  much  in  the  kitchen,  and  who 
have  little  of  that  vivacity  wiiich  distinguishes  even 
the  oppressed  people  of  the  Continent   of   Europe. 


326  UP    THE     RIVER. 

Their  very  speech  is  lazy,  the  current  of  their  con- 
versation as  languid  as  the  waters  of  a  duck-pond, 
accompanied  not  with  sparkling  eyes,  or  even  with 
a  see-saw,  sawney  gesture,  not  spoken  tripplingly 
or  trillingly  with  inflection,  cadence,  and  a  sharp 
emphasis.  You  never  see  them  collected  under  the 
trees  of  a  summer  evening,  young  and  old,  with  an 
apparent  freedom  in  all  their  motions,  partaking  of 
nick-nacks,  listening  to  the  sound  of  a  flute  or  a  viol. 
It  is  true  that  on  a  fourth  of  July,  when  the  heat  is 
sweltering,  they  will  start  off  early  in  the  morning, 
and  make  a  day's  work  of  it  in  dragging  after  them 
heavy  baskets  loaded  with  root  beer  and  such  trash 
miles  into  the  country,  coming  back  at  evening  tired 
out  and  satiated  with  amusement  for  a  year.  Or 
perhaps  others  will  go  in  the  winter  to  a  ball  at  a 
country  tavern,  where,  as  recreation  has  been  such 
a  scarce  commodity,  they  are  apt  to  proceed  to 
great  excess.  As  to  a  constant  habit  of  sociality,  it 
is  not  known.  A  tea  table  with  its  loads  of  unhealthy 
cake  and  sweetmeats,  and  solemn  silence  is  the  ulti- 
matum, A  large  proportion  do  not  partake  at  home 
in  all  their  fulness  of  the  refinements  of  life  and  com- 
forts which  they  have  richly  earned,  and  which  they 
are  able  to  enjoy.  The  very  process  of  acquisition 
seems  to  have  raised  an  insurmountable   barrier  to 


UP    THE    RIVER.  327 

the  use.  A  man  who  will  not  be  generous  to  him- 
self, will  never  be  ready  to  make  sacrifices  for  others. 
Always  treat  yourself  politely,  kindly  and  genially, 
(but  never  extravagantly,)  if  you  can  do  so  with  jus- 
tice, and  your  neighbour  as  yourself.  Charity  does 
not  even  begin  at  home  with  some,  and  of  course,  in 
a  perverted  sense,  there  is  no  end  of  their  good  deeds, 
because  that  can  have  no  end  which  has  no  begin- 
ning. 

I  perceived,  while  strolling  over  your  ground,  that 
you  have  already  laid  out  the  walks  of  a  pleasant 
garden,  where  you  may  obtain  your  fresh  vegetables, 
from  the  early  radish  to  the  late  celery  and  snowy- 
headed  cauliflower,  and  as  to  flowers,  it  will  be  em- 
bellished like  a  painting  in  the  Crystal  Palace  drawn 
by  some  fair  hand,  in  which  is  all  the  floral  train 
described  by  Shakspere  in  his  plays,  with  the  "  sweet 
musk-rose"  in  the  centre,  A  garden,  however  small, 
if  it  only  contain  a  few  beds,  a  little  sage  and  thyme 
and  parsly,  has  about  it  a  smack  of  the  old  Eden, 
before  the  fall.  There  you  will  notice  the  gradual 
growth  of  plants  in  the  early  spring,  and  get  a  smell 
of  the  mould  as  you  stoop  down  to  root  out  a  weed 
or  to  pluck  a  violet. 

The  great  Lord  Chancellor  Bacon,  in  writing 
pleasantly  on  this   subject,   to   which   he   imparts  a 


328  UP    THE    RIVER. 

portion  of  his  universal  learning,  says  that  "the  con- 
tents are  not  to  be  under  thirty  acres,  divided  into 
three  parts,  a  green  in  the  entrance,  a  heath  or  de- 
sert in  the  going  forth,  and  the  main  garden  in  the 
midst  with  allies  on  both  sides."  But  this  applies 
only  to  the  "  royal  ordering  of  gardens,"  and  is  ac- 
cording to  that  scale  of  princely  living,  a  taste  for 
which  reduced  that  paragon  of  letters  to  the  dust 
of  humility,  brought  a  slur  on  the  new  philosophy 
in  the  very  person  of  its  illustrious  founder,  and 
caused  him  at  last  to  bequeath  his  "  name  and  me- 
mory to  foreign  nations,  and  to  his  own  countrymen 
after  some  time  he  passed  over^  "  There  ought," 
says  he,  "  to  be  gardens  for  every  month  in  the 
year,  in  which  severally  things  of  beauty  may  be 
then  in  season.  For  November,  December,  January 
and  February,  you  must  take  such  things  as  be  green 
all  winter,  holly,  ivy,  bays,  juniper,  cypress  trees, 
yew,  fir  trees,  rosemary,  periwinkle,  the  white,  the 
purple  and  the  blue  germander,  flags,  orange  trees, 
lemon  trees  and  myrtle,  if  tliey  he  stoved,  and  sweet 
marjeram,  ivar7n  set. 

For  the  latter  part  of  January  and  February,  you 
have  also  the  merzereon  tree,  which  then  blossoms, 
crocus  vernus,   both  the  yellow  and  the   grey  prim- 


UP    THE    RIVER.  329 

rose,  anemonies,  the  early  tulip,   hyacintbus  orient- 
alis,  chamairis,  fritellaria. 

For  March,  here  come  the  violets,  especially  the 
single  blue,  which  are  then  earliest,  the  yellow  daf- 
fodil, the  daisy,  the  almond  tree  in  blossom,  the 
peach  tree  in  blossom,  sweet  brier. 

In  April  follow  the  double  white  violet,  the  wall- 
flower, the  stock  gillies,  the  cowslip,  flower-de-luce, 
and  lillies  of  all  natures,  the  tulip,  the  double  piony, 
the  pale  daff"odil,  the  honeysuckle,  the  cherry  tree 
in  full  bloom,  the  damascene  and  plum  tree,  the 
white  thorn  in  leaf,  the  lelach  tree." 

Then  he  goes  on  to  mention  buglos,  columbine, 
ribes,  rasps,  sweet  satyrian,  liliuni  convallium,  melo- 
cotones,  wardens,  services,  medlars,   bullaces,   &c. 

"  And  because,"  saith  he,  "  the  breath  of  flowers 
is  far  sweeter  in  the  air,  where  it  comes  and  goes, 
like  the  warbling  of  music,  than  in  the  hand,  there- 
fore nothing  is  more  fit  for  that  delight  than  to  know 
what  be  the  flowers  and  plants  that  best  perfume 
the  air.  Roses  damask  and  red  are  fast  flowers  of 
their  smells,  so  that  you  may  walk  by  a  whole  row 
of  them  and  find  nothing  of  their  sweetness  ;  yea 
though  they  be  wet  with  a  morning's  dew.  Those 
which  yield  the  sweetest  smell  are  the  strawberry 
leaves  when  dying,  the  flower  of  vines,  a  little  dust 


330  UP    THE    RIVER. 

which  grows  on  the  cluster  in  the  first  coming  forth, 
wall  flowers  very  delightful  to  be  set  under  a  parlour 
and  lower  window,  and  honeysuckles,  so  that  they 
be  somewhat  afar  off." 

Here  you  have  from  one,  and  him  as  wise  as  Solo- 
mon in  things  of  natural  science,  the  catalogue  of 
all  the  trees,  shrubs,  fruits  and  flowers  which  are 
pleasant  to  the  eye,  agreeable  to  the  taste,  and 
which  give  forth  a  "  most  excellent,  cordial  odour." 
There  are  other  matters  alluded  to  by  the  Lord 
Chancellor  in  his  essay,  such  as  hedges,  arbours, 
aviaries,  fish  pools,  fountains,  reservoirs,  which  were 
no  doubt  practised  upon  by  him  in  his  palmy  days, 
and  for  which  I  refer  you  to  his  works,  which  are, 
I  believe,  to  be  found  on  the  shelves  of  the  Hay- 
warde  library.  I  have  often  thought  that  it  was  a 
redeeming  circumstance  in  the  great  man's  lot,  that 
when  the  incense  of  adulation  was  no  longer  given, 
the  incense  of  flowers  was  not  withdrawn,  for  these 
are  often  the  most  sweet  allayment  for  a  wounded 
spirit,  and  for  slights,  cuts,  indignities  and  the  aver- 
sions of  men. 

But  I  shall  also  suggest  something  which  is  not 
found  in  the  above  treatise,  and  that  is,  that  you  are 
to  have  a  sun-dial  in  the  middle  of  your  garden,  and 
under  the  embowering  trees  in  some  alley,  a  couple 


UP  THE     RIVER.  331 

of  bee  houses  made  semi-globular,  of  twisted  straw 
after  the  old  fashion,  forasmuch  as  they  have  a 
more  rustic  look,  and  are  a  better  ornament  than 
Yankee  bee  hives.  Thence  you  shall  see  the  little 
rovers  sally  forth  upon  a  bright  spring  morning  to 
commit  their  petit  larcenies,  sipping-  from  the  cups 
in  which  the  humming  bird  has  plunged  his  beak, 
and  which  the  winds  have  rifled,  supplying  all  the 
cells  with  virgin  honey,  yet  without  a  damage  done 
to  any  rose.  There  you  shall  watch  them  on  their 
swift  return  from  apple  orchards  and  from  banks 
"  whereon  the  wild  thyme  grows"  with  gilded  thighs, 
like  little  ingots  hunof  about  their  waists,  and  all 
that  marvellous  economy  in  which  we  see  their  in- 
stinct excelling  art.  There  you  shall  behold  a  model 
of  good  government,  patterns  of  loyalty  and  industry, 
as  well  as  the  sweet  rewards  of  toil. 

Bees  bring-  good  luck  as  well  as  birds.  It  was  a 
summer  morning,  as  I  sat  in  my  own  chamber,  and 
the  windows  were  all  wide  open  to  admit  the  breeze, 
and  I  was  listening  to  the  song  of  birds,  to  the  plash 
of  the  waves,  and  tinkling  of  kine  in  the  neighbour- 
ing meadows,  when  suddenly  down  the  hills  of 
Rhineland  there  came  a  tumultuous  company  of 
boys  and  girls,  accompanied  by  the  cymbals  and 
music  of  the    Corobantes,   while  over   the  heads  of 


332  UP    THE    RIVER- 

all  the  youthful  revellers  as  they  beat  the  flashing 
pails  and  wares  of  Cornwall,  I  beheld  a  moving 
cloud,  and  above  the  din  I  heard  a  hum,  a  buzz,  a 
murmur  of  the  bees  in  agitation,  still  moving  on  but 
with  their  phalanxes  steadily  wheeling  about  the 
queen.  The  queen  was  in  the  centre  of  the  flying 
group,  protected  by  her  thick  body-guard,  while  I 
could  observe  the  scattered  scouts,  and  many  outer 
sentinels  fall  victims  to  the  birds.  Onward  they 
came,  and  still  the  humming  and  the  din  became 
more  aggravated  until  the  swarming  bees  began  to 
flit  and  buzz  around  the  very  porch  and  windows  of 
the  house.  The  combatants  came  within  where 
they  were  reinforced  in  the  hall  of  the  old  farm  house 
by  all  manner  of  brazen  implements  and  tin  tinabu- 
lations  ;  the  cook,  the  chambermaid,  the  little  boy, 
the  fat  woman,  and  the  rosy-cheeked  girls,  all  helped 
along  the  Callathumpian  band,  and  ever  and  anon 
the  latter  rushed  with  screams  into  some  upper  room 
chased  by  a  solitary,  wanton  bee.  Under  the 
pear  tree  on  the  green  there  stood  a  table  spread 
with  a  clean  white  cloth  on  which  was  placed  the 
medicated  hive  or  box  besmeared  with  sweets. 
But  this  house  of  refuge  was  rejected  :  it  did  not  so 
please  the  mind  of  the  queen  bee.  The  whole 
swarm  entered   the   windows   of  my   chamber   and 


UP    THE    RIVER.  333 

hung  like  a  bunch  of  grapes  on  the  low  post  of  my 
bed.  This  I  accounted  a  good  omen,  and  I  patiently 
wait  until  this  day  for  something  which  deserves  the 
name  of  luck  to  overtake  me.  Alas  !  there  is  al- 
ways a  lion  in  the  way,  but  when  he  is  slain,  1  hope 
that  some  honey  may  be  found  in  his  carcase. 

Haywarde,  as  you  have  a  numerous  family,  I  sin- 
cerely hope  that  Chestnut  Cottage  may  not  for  a 
long  period  or  never  share  the  fate  of  that  old  man's 
heritage  of  which  I  just  spoke,  but  may  be  of  the 
nature  of  an  entailed  estate.  Thus  you  will  not  be 
planning  walks,  training  briers  and  making  terraces 
for  some  Bathyllus  who  is  to  come  after  you.  Sic 
vos  non  vobis  will  not  apply  ;  nor  will  you  be  like 
the  birds,  the  sheep,  the  bees,  the  oxen  which  Vir- 
gilius  speaks  of.  But  admit  that  it  is  so.  Hold  an 
acorn  in  your  hand,  and  imagine  the  fairy  trunk  and 
roots  and  limbs  and  foliage  which  are  even  now 
enshrined  invisible  within  its  polished  walls.  Are 
you  one  of  those  who  would  not  cover  it  with  a  lit- 
tle dust  for  fear  a  stranger  should  enjoy  the  future 
shadow  ?  What  avenue  of  trees  should  we  now 
walk  under,  and  how  would  every  public  road  be 
like  a  passage  through  a  stately  forest,  if  former 
men  had  dropped  in  a  row  of  acorns  for  the  benefit 
of  us  strangers.     But  selfishness   is  deeper  rooted 


334  UP    THE    RIVER. 

than  the  trees  would  now  be,  or  rather  in  charity  let 
us  suppose  that  men  do  not  think  of  a  future  which 
is  not  circumscribed  by  their  own  interests. 

But  I  must  not  go  on  to  a  tedious  prolixity,  and 
I  now  conclude  by  assuring  you  of  my  wishes  for 
your  future  prosperity,  and  can  imagine  the 
pleasure  which  you  will  hereafter  experience 
when  leaving  the  hot  and  crowded  city  at  the  close 
of  a  summer's  day,  you  shall  arrive  at  the  door  of 
Chestnut  Cottage,  and  having  brushed  off  the  dust, 
put  on  a  clean  shirt,  and  washed  your  hands  and  face, 
you  walk  forth  upon  your  terrace  which  directly 
faces  the  grand  gigantic,  natural  wall  of  the  Pali- 
sades, and  the  expansive  river.  There  you  will  have 
embowered  seats,  and  it  will  be  the  very  place  in  which 
to  meditate  aright,  to  read  a  book,  or  to  compose  a 
poem,  and  as  the  hour  of  twilight  creeps  along,  and 
the  crests  of  the  waves  flash  in  the  moonbeams,  and 
the  hum  of  the  departing  day  has  ceased,  your  friends 
and  family  shall  gather  round  to  hear  the  tum-tum 
of  the  light  guitar,  and  the  rippling  of  the  river.  In 
a  few  years  you  will  have  your  trees  rooted,  your 
vines  blooming,  your  grass  in  order,  your  walks  laid 
out,  and  the  whole  place  so  arranged  that  it  would 
meet  the  approbation  of  Blenerhasset  ;  and  although 
it  is  no  Chats  worth  with  its  Paradisal  lawns  and  ut- 


UP    THE    ItlVER. 


335 


most  luxury  of  landscape,  nor  is  your  garden  order 
ed  with  that  right  royal  breath  and  scope  advised 
by  England's  learned  Chancellor  ; — nay,  though  you 
are  rather  straitened  to  the  quatuor  jugera  of  the 
poet,  in  which  to  plant  the  shrubs  of  every  season, 
and  raise  the  plants  productive  of  a  most  excellent, 
cordial  odour,  your  sylvan  theatre  is  large  enough 
for  the  exhibition  of  a  correct  taste,  a  contented 
mind  and  all  the  graces  of  hospitality.  Let  others 
own  the  acres  ;  as  far  as  eye  can  reach,  the  prospect 
is  your  own  ;  below,  the  wide  expansive  basin  of  the 
Tappaan  Sea  ;  above,  the  towering  Highlands  ;  be- 
yond, the  blue  line  of  the  Kaatskills,  classic  ground. 
Here  then,  let  our  aspirations  be,  for  many  a  pleas- 
ant morning,  attempered  noonday,  serene  and  star- 
lit evening  of  our  days  among  the  sylvan  sceneries, 
Up  the  River. 


/^7 


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